Star Traks: Crash Course
by Lt. Silverado
Summary: Usually, Star Traks chronicles the voyages of the truly inept. But in this case, the truly inept haven't actually gone anywhere. Meet Brute Squad: a group of fresh, new cadets at Starfleet Academy. Assuming they survive Academy pranks, professors, exams and bathtub mold monsters, they will hopefully graduate and move on to accomplish...well...hopefully something.
1. Year 1 - New Arrivals

It's now disclaimer time,

It's time to sing our rhyme,

If somebody sues me,

I'll scream and cry and whine!

Star Trek is the property of Paramount, and was created by Gene Roddenberry.

Star Traks is the property and creation of Alan Decker. The number of Star Traks spin-offs is growing rapidly, so if I try to list them all here, the disclaimer will be longer than the actual story.

Star Traks: Crash Course my demented creation. Somewhat based on my time at the Royal Military College of Canada.

The events and characters depicted in this story are completely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is intended as humorous flattery. However, if there isn't a character that resembles you, try not to take it personally. Or maybe you should. Maybe I just don't like you. (But that's probably not the case.)

(But maybe it is.)

Copyright 2008

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

1.1 – "New Arrivals"

Author's Note: This story takes place in the Star Traks Universe. If you're not a Star Trek fan, that's probably a good thing. Star Traks chronicles the voyages of the truly inept. Their ongoing mission: To simply survive! To seek out new life forms and flee from them. To boldly screw up where none have screwed up before!

The Star Traks Nexus contains hundreds of stories about never-before-seen ships and crews, and while some ideas such as Starfleet and the Federation bear resemblance to the television show, you'll find that the characters, storylines and situations in the Star Traks Universe are a bit less serious, a fair bit less boring and a lot more fun. So if you find yourself wondering 'What the hell is the USS Secondprize', head over to and find out…

The original story was posted in .docx and had footnotes included. The footnotes are still here, but the conversion moved them waaaay to the end.

Prologue:

Captain Andy Baxter sat in his ready room aboard the USS Explorer1. His wife, Counselor Kelly Peterman, was standing behind him, rubbing his shoulders.

"I don't see what the problem is, Andy," she said, "Your cousin's, sister's nephew's…um, a relative of yours made it into the Academy. Good for him."

"You don't understand, Kelly," Baxter groaned, "When I sponsored him, I never thought he'd actually get into the Academy,"

"Well, having a starship captain sponsoring him probably helped," Kelly said, putting one finger in her mouth as she thought.

"The Academy's gonna be tough work," Baxter went on, "I mean, only the best ever go there!" Baxter suddenly recalled a few of the cadets he himself had known, "Well, most of the time they're the best. He's going to have to deal with classes, senior classmen, professors, the discipline, the living conditions and," Baxter shuddered, "SNAP,"

"Oh, Andy," Peterman said, giving Baxter a squeeze, "Starfleet never would have let him in if they didn't think he could do well,"

"Dylan's always been the 'special' kid in the family," Baxter said, making little air quotes.

"I thought you were the 'special' kid in the family," Peterman giggled.

"I was until Dylon came along," Baxter said, "That's why he's my favourite relative."

"Bridge to Captain Baxter,"

"Baxter here," Andy said, tapping his comm-badge2.

"We have a bit of a situation here, Captain," Explorer's first officer Commander Christopher Richards reported, his voice sounding strangely pained, "Dr. Browning overloaded the replicator system with her super-sized prime-rib-ham-chicken-lamb and meatball sandwich again, Lieutenant Mandera spilled her coffee on J'Hana's lap and now J'Hana's threatening her with some kind of Andorian evisceration ceremony3."

"Can't you take care of it, Chris?" Baxter asked.

"I would," Richards replied, still sounding pained, "But I just caught myself in my zipper, if you get my meaning, and I'll be in the bathroom until I figure out how to get it out,"

"Ouch," Baxter winced, "I'll be right up,"

"I wouldn't worry, sweetie," Peterman said, "If people like us can make it through Starfleet Academy, I'm sure Dylan Baxter can,"

Over the nearly two centuries it has been in existence, Starfleet Command has taken great pains to ensure that Starfleet Academy, the institution which all future officers must graduate, has nothing but the highest reputation in the public eye. This tactic has been, for the most part, successful, although for those who have actually graduated the Academy it's well known that a lot more goes on there than Starfleet would like to admit.

Nobody is quite sure why, but there have always been a number of officers who could be best described as 'eccentric'. Officers with strange obsessions, unusual believes and strange, new neurosis. Of course, these officers are rare, and usually mature into stable adults by the time they graduate the Academy.

Those that don't are sent to the USS Secondprize1, where they encounter planets of obnoxious belchers, stupidity viruses and creepy, oily aliens who want to Joegonotize the galaxy. Or to the USS Explorer, where they encounter human-eating insects and lunatic cults that worship giant lips. Or to Waystation2, where they encounter alternate universe filled with maniacally happy brainwash victims, xenophobic aliens and extremely obsessed Collectors. There's also the USS Banshee3, which lasted a few whole months before the ship was destroyed. More recently, they've been sent to the USS Silverado4, where they encounter empires of mind-controlling, man-hating women, crazy Klingon pirates that enjoy crushing planets and civilizations that take the term 'time zone' to a bizarre new level.

But if these 'special' officers are as rare as Starfleet claims, how have they managed to fill so many ships with them? Where do these rejects come from?

And how do they get through the Academy?

Part One: Introductions

Baxter

"Who-hoo!" Dylan Baxter exclaimed, holding a message padd over his head, "I'm so totally in!" He slapped a high-five to his buddy, Rex. The high-five was followed by a punch on the shoulder, then a head-butt, their skulls cracking loudly as they collided. Baxter and Rex both fell back, dazed and rubbing their foreheads.

"I though we weren't going to do that anymore," Rex said.

"Like, who cares!" Baxter exclaimed, "I'm outta here! No more working at McBaughb's5 for me!"

"Boo-yah!"

Dylon Baxter was a human male of white descent. He was a bit short for a human, with dark brown hair and wide eyes that, on a normal human, would give a look of perpetual surprise. In Baxter's case, they made it look like he was about to say 'huh?' or 'd'uh!' or some other expression of startling intelligence. OK, I'll cut the literary crap. Baxter was dumb as a post. His parents weren't sure if it was from being dropped on his head as a baby (which his mother swore was an accident) or if there had been some kind of accident involving brain-sucking aliens. Now, Baxter wasn't completely stupid. Academically, he could mange. Barely. But in terms of common sense? Nada.

"How did you do it, man?" Rex asked, holding up his own message padd. On it, a rejection letter from Starfleet Academy was clearly visible, "I mean, we're totally alike. We had the same scores and everything! How did you get in?"

"Well, they must have been attracted by my good looks and natural charm," Baxter said, striking a heroic pose.

"Your stomach's hanging out again," Rex giggled, pointing, "Don't you have to be, like, in shape to go to the Academy?"

Oh yeah. Dylon Baxter was fat too.

He quickly sucked in his gut.

"It's no problem," he said, "I'll get plenty of exercise,"

He eyed the holo-vision set sitting at the far side of the room. Grabbing a bag of chips, he jumped on the couch.

"After I get to the Academy, anyway,"

Malespere:

"Marc, are you sure this is such a good idea?"

"Yeah, man!" Marc Malespere shouted, slamming his fists together as he stood in the rear of the shuttle, "Let's do this!"

Malespere was a human of French descent. He was slightly shorter than average height for a human, but made up for it with a solid, athletic build. His bright blue eyes, fair hair and chiselled features attracted more than a bit of attention from the ladies (and even from some of the men).

None of this was visible at the moment, as Malespere was completely covered from head to toe in a thick, silver suit, with a pair of oxygen tanks and a parachute strapped to his back.

"Marc," his buddy, Eddie, was piloting the shuttle, "My mom says that orbital skydiving1 is really dangerous, and that-"

"C'mon, man!" Malespere exclaimed, "Don't be a downer! It's totally cool!" He slammed one hand against the hatch control. The rear hatch of the shuttle slowly opened, revealing the blackness of space. Below them, the Earth slowly rotated, the atmosphere hugging the surface in delicate whisps. Malespere braced himself against the hatch, ready to jump through the force field that was holding in the shuttle's atmosphere.

"Hey, Marc," Eddie called over the radio, "We're getting a message for you,"

"I'm about to jump!"

"It looks important,"

"Look, just put it on a padd2 and give it here; I'll read it on the way down!"

Eddie copied the message over, then tossed Marc the padd. Tapping another control, he closed the hatch between the cockpit and the rear compartment.

Malespere started reading the padd.

"Mr. Marc Malespere," he read, "It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into Starfleet Academy,"

"Are you ready back there?" Eddie asked.

Malespere ignored him, re-reading the first line of the message over again.

"I'm in," he said softly.

"Hey, Merc," Eddie repeated, "Are you ready?"

"YES!" Malespere shouted, pumping his arm in victory, "BOO-YAH!"

"OK,"

Eddie dropped the atmospheric containment field. In a rush of wind, everything in the aft compartment, including Malespere, was sucked out into space.

"AHHHHHH!"

He spun, out of control as Earth's gravity started pulling him in. The padd went flying off into its own orbit as Malespere clutched his suit controls, firing thrusters to try to get his spin under control. Although he was plummeting straight towards North America, there was almost no sense of motion as he fell. Soon, that would change as he started entering the atmosphere. Sure enough, he began to feel the force of air, faint at first, but building rapidly. His suit was strong enough to absorb the worst of the strain, and as the air started thickening, his heavily-insulated suit began to glow with the heat of re-entry.

"WHOOOOOO-HOOOOOO!" Malespere shouted as he fell, a fiery comet plunging towards the Earth.

"I am SO sorry, man!" Eddie said. He'd tracked Malespere's decent via locator beacon, and had followed him down in the shuttle, "I thought-"

"Dude, that was AWSOME!" Malespere exclaimed, "Man, I thought the tumble was going to throw me off, but I like, TOTALLYgot it!"

"Uh, right," Eddie said, "Oh, hey. What was that message about, anyway?"

Malespere looked down at his skydiving helmet.

"I'm heading off," he said, suddenly somber, "To bigger and better things,"

"Oh," Eddie said, surprised, "Um. Congratulations?"

"Thanks, man," Malespere said, "C'mon, let's go get a beer,"

Veksai:

"Hey, Steve, I have this Klingon lady on the line, and she says she can't get her Sens-O-Matic to pick up week-old gagh,"

Steven Veksai, a half human, half Orion male sighed as he stepped over.

"Why does she want to scan for week-old gagh?" he asked.

"She said one of her kids has been stashing it all over the house, and it's stinking to high heaven,"

"Good God," Veksai rolled his eyes, "What is wrong with these people?"

Veksai was an instructor at the Dillon Enterprises Technical Support Center on Waystation. As much as he enjoyed the teaching part of his job, working for Dillon Enterprises was driving him completely up the wall. As far as he was concerned, the company was demanding, inflexible and seemed to be ready to move the universe for its customers, breaking the backs of its employees in the process if need be. Veksai's job was to train new employees to assist customers who were having problems with their Dillon Enterprises products. He was just in the process of bringing a new class of agents onto the floor. He didn't mind the Sens-O-Matic classes that much, but he absolutely hated working with D-Mobile, the Dillon Enterprises communications service. Veksai was tall, slim and just a bit green. His Orion half showed itself in his slightly greenish, almost translucent skin, his fur-like black hair and tendency to take things just a step further than most people would like.

Veksai was about to speak when his padd beeped, indicating an incoming message. He pulled it out, then put it back with disgust when he saw the message was from one of his co-workers, probably wanting him to cover one of their classes while they went off to some meeting or other.

"Look, just tell her how to scan for high concentrations of bacteria," he told the agent, "If the damned stuff is stinking, it's probably rotting too,"

"Oh, good idea," the agent immediately went back to the customer, Veksai forgotten.

"I hate my job," he muttered.

His padd vibrated again. With a grimace, he pulled it out.

"'O'Keefe,'" he read, looking at the source of the message, "Who the hell is O'Keefe? I don't know any f**king O'Keefe…"

Veksai trailed off as realization dawned. He did know an O'Keefe. Just over a month ago, he'd been interviewed by Lieutenant O'Keefe, down in the Starfleet Academy Annex, in Waystation's lower saucer. He quickly opened the message.

"Mr. Steven Veksai," he read, "It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into Starfleet Academy,"

"I've been accepted," he muttered. He leaned against the nearest desk, suddenly weak in the knees. "Oh my God," he swallowed as waves of relief and excitement rushed through him, "I'm in!"

"Veksai, are you all right?" it was his manager, "You look a bit pale, even for you,"

"Huh? Oh!" Veksai shook his head, trying to clear it as he quickly put his padd away, "I'm just a bit dizzy. I think I'll go home for the day,"

"Sure. Just make sure you finalize the new Sens-O-Matic curriculum by Friday. Oh, and you know you're starting a new D-Mobile class next week,"

"Uh, yeah. Um, can I talk to you about that tomorrow?"

"Sure,"

Bahred

"Am I up next coach? I'm ready to go. I know what to do. Breaststroke if I'm swimming against a Klingon, front crawl for Vulcans and-"

"Calm down, Archie," Bahred's swim coach, an extremely slim and balding man, chuckled, "You know what you're doing. I know you know what you're doing. You don't need to tell me you know what you're doing, cuz I already know you know what you're doing,"

"Uh, yeah,"

Archie Bahred, a (mostly) human male, was standing on the pool deck wearing nothing but a green and white Speedo and a pair of goggles. Every hair on his body had been removed to improve his speed in the water, with the exception of his head, which he covered in a bright green swim-cap.

"Who am I swimming against, coach? Who? What species? Is anybody I've gone against before?"

"I don't know," his coach replied, "The roster has the Velvattian team up next, but I have no idea what a Velvattian is,"

At that moment, the doors to one of the change rooms burst open and a pair of huge, two meter tall squid-like aliens emerged. Their purple hides gleamed with moisture, and their suction-cup tentacles flailed through the air as they made their way to the start-up line.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Bahred gasped, "I'm swimming against an octopus?"

"Squid," his coach gulped, "Octopi don't have the…oh, screw it. Just get into the water, Archie."

It was really no competition. Bahred swam his hardest, but the Velvattian competitor outraced him easily, returning to the starting line-up before Bahred had even made it to the far end of the pool. As he returned, exhausted, he took the tentacle offered to him by his competitor.

"It was a good swim, man. Or woman. Or whatever the hell you are." Bahred gasped, "A good swim…HEY!"

He suddenly found himself dangling upside down, caught in the grip of the incredibly strong alien. The Velvattian held him high over its head, then opened it's wide, vertical mouth-slit.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Bahred's swim coach demanded, turning to the second Velvattian, "What's it doing?"

"We won," the alien gurgled, "Lunch time,"

"HEY!" the coach chased after the alien holding Bahred at is slowly lowered him towards it's gaping mouth, "We DO NOT EAT the LOSING TEAM on this PLANET! Put him down!" He'd grabbed a pole, one of those weird life-saving poles with the hooks on the end, from one wall and started bashing at the alien, "BAD SQUID! BAD SQUID!"

Half an hour (and a team of security guards) later, Bahred was still in the showers, trying to get the last of the Velvattian slime1 off his body before the stuff could start dissolving him, or something.

"Bahred?" it was brother, Jake.

"What do you want?"

"Hey, chill, man. Mom sent me to give you this message," he held out a padd.

"Jake," Bahred said, "I was just about killed and eaten by a giant squid. And I'm butt-naked in the shower! I don't feel like taking messages right now!"

"Get used to it," Jake grinned.

"Get used to what? Being naked in the shower? Go away!"

"No, get used to being eaten by giant aliens," Jake said, holding out the padd.

"What?" Bahred grabbed the padd (luckily, it was waterproof) and started reading.

"Archie Bahred, blah blah, accepted!" Who-hoo!" Bahred threw his arms up. "YES! I'M IN!"

"Uh, huh," Jake turned away, not needing to see any more of Archie's nakedness today, thank you, "Hurry up. Mom and dad want to take you out for dinner to celebrate,"

"Awsome!" Bahred laughed, "Just do me a favour,"

"What?"

"No seafood, please."

Kumari

"And that's a run to the Cardinals, wonderful job by Suvarti Xin," the announcer said calmly.

"Another Sluggo cola, my lady?"

"Is the view to your liking, my lady?"

Akavarti Kumari nodded politely to her servants.

"Yes, another refreshment, please," she said, "And the view is perfect, thank you,"

Both servants nodded, then moved away. Kumari leaned forward, watching the cricket match with a mix of boredom and anxiety. Boredom, because she really didn't care about cricket, no matter how much her father insisted that it would help 'culture' her. Anxiety because she still hadn't heard anything back from the Academy.

Kumari was First Princess of Banda 4, a planet colonized nearly 200 years ago by humans of primarily Indian descent. After landing, they had decided that a monarchy would be the best way to rule their new world, and the rest, as they say, is history. With abundant deposits of dilithium1 and a bustling economy, Banda 4 was a relatively rich world. As such, Kumari had found herself born into a world of wealth, privilege and high society. On top of this, Kumari herself was an exceptionally beautiful woman, with skin the colour of milk chocolate, deep, expressive brown eyes and black hair, like the deep of the night. She could barely walk down the streets of Mituka, the capitol city of Banda 4, without men throwing themselves at her.

Finally, the match was over. As Kumari stood to leave, her servants were immediately at her side, guiding her towards the exit. Kumari and the rest of the population assumed this was just another quaint little custom, but the truth of the matter was that the help was badly needed.

Princess Kumari was a world-class klutz. Her parents had started to worry when, at the age of 5, she'd accidentally pushed a bowling ball down the front steps of the palace. One thing led to another, with the end result being a 15 hover-car pile-up right in front of the royal estates. The final straw had been when, during a school tour, she'd stumbled on a loose cord and started a chain reaction in a fusion reactor. (Luckily, the reactor had been shut down before the city could be destroyed.) Ever since, at least two servants had escorted her everywhere.

As the hover-limo drove them back to the palace, one servant withdrew a silver platter from a storage compartment. On it was an electronic message padd. Kumari reached for it, knocking over two bottles of seltzer water in the process in her eagerness.

"A message! What does it say?" she demanded.

"We cannot read it to you if you're holding it, mi'lady," one said.

"Oh, right," she handed it over.

"Ms. Akavarti Kumari," he read, "It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into Starfleet Academy,"

"Goody!" Kumari squealed, clapping her hands, "I'm going to the Academy!"

The servants exchanged glances.

"If I may be so bold, my lady," one asked, "does your father know of your plans?"

"Oh, I'll just tell Daddy, I'm vacationing on Earth," Kumari said, waving one hand, "He'll be totally oblivious!" She smiled, "Take me to the mall, I feel like celebrating!"

M'Kr'gr

"Ah, Mr," the interviewer squinted at his padd, "McGregor?"

"M'Kr'gr," the large reptile seated at the desk corrected, "It is pronounced 'Mm-ker-ger,"

"Sorry," the interviewer said, looking nervously up at M'Kr'gr, "So many alien names, so little time to learn how to pronounce them. I'm Lieutenant Casoni."

"I was told there was a problem with my application," M'Kr'gr said bluntly.

"Er, yes," the Bajoran1 man swallowed, "You see, we've never had a, um," he consulted his padd again, "Parian2 apply to the Academy before,"

Put bluntly, M'Kr'gr resembled a talking velociraptor. Reptillian, with greenish-brown scales, blood-red eyes and a sharp ridge running from the center of his head down his neck, he was a terrifying sight. The tips of his fangs were clearly visible, even when his mouth was closed, and the tips of his razor-sharp claws gleamed from their fingertip sheaths. His tail was curled uncomfortably behind him in the small chair he'd been forced to use had his knees kept banging against the bottom of the table. He was slim for a Parian, with sharply defined muscles visible even through the tunic he wore. Slim for a Parian, however, was not slim for a human. He looked like he could break somebody in half without even giving it a second thought.

"Yes, you have," M'Kr'gr growled, "Commander T'Parief is Parian, and has been in Starfleet for many years.

"Yes, I see on your application that you cited him as precedence," Casoni said, swallowing again, "But, you see, Commander T'Parief was born on a Federation member planet. Also, he's listed as Gorn/Klingon/Andorian hybrid, not as a Parian."

"Things have changed," M'Kr'gr said.

"Maybe so," Casoni admitted, "But, you see, you weren't born on a member planet. In fact, you birthplace is listed as," the interviewer squinted at the application, "A moon base in a parallel universe. The Federation council is still debating whether or not to admit your current home planet to the Federation, and Starfleet is uneasy about admitting an officer who was genetically engineered without just cause,"

A low rumble started in the back of M'Kr'gr's throat, a sign of rising anger.

"I'm sorry," Casoni said firmly, "But you need a commissioned officer to sponsor you before we can even begin to think about letting you into the Academy. And then he'll need to go in front of the admissions board and make a case for your entry. Do you know any officers who would be willing to-"

"I am willing to offer my life to Starfleet and the Federation," M'Kr'gr said sharply, "And this bureaucratic nonsense is what I get in return?"

There was a knock at the door. Casoni sighed.

"Apparently, some people can't read the 'Interview in Progress – Do Not Disturb' sign," he said. He stood, then tapped the open control. Looking over his shoulder, M'Kr'gr could see the form of a tall, humanoid officer wearing the rank of Commander. The man had extremely pale skin and vibrant green eyes, making M'Kr'gr doubt he was human. He spoke softly, but M'Kr'gr couldn't make out the words. He noticed M'Kr'gr's gaze and smiled. M'Kr'gr was startled to see that the man had fangs! Smaller than M'Kr'gr's, for sure, and carefully hidden. But they were there. M'Kr'gr had been studying Federation races and cultures for months, getting ready to apply to the Academy, but he didn't recognize that man's race at all. After speaking with Casoni for a few more minutes, he nodded at M'Kr'gr, then left.

"OK," Casoni said, laying his padd down in front of M'Kr'gr, "Please initial here, sign here, and mark in today's stardate,"

"Who was that?" M'Kr'gr demanded.

"That was your sponsoring officer," Casoni said, as calmly as though he was announcing the weather, "He's going in front of the admissions board this afternoon to argue your case, but I doubt you have anything to worry about."

"What race is he?"

"Commander Noonan1?" Casoni raised an eyebrow, "Why, human, of course. Now, sign here, and we'll have you at the Academy before you know it."

Part Two: Arrival

Marc Malespere sat looking out the viewport at the clear, sunny day outside. He was seated in an ordinary, run-of the mill transport shuttle flying high over the west coast of North America. He'd already endured the 15 minute flight over the Pacific Ocean from Russia, where they'd made their last pick-up. All in all, he wasn't sure why he was being forced to spend 4 whole hours as a passenger while the damned shuttle flew all over the planet. Why couldn't he have just beamed right to the Academy? The inter-continental transporter was a 10 minute ride from his parent's home in Marseille.

"Attention all passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We'll be stopping in Calgary for a pickup before beginning the final leg of our trip to San Francisco. If you would pleas…"

Malespere payed no attention to the standard safety speech. The shuttle had already landed by the time the pilot got to the part about emergency exits for non-humanoid1 passengers. The hatch opened and three or four terrified looking youths made their way into the cabin. One of them, a very tall male with very short hair, took the seat next to Malespere.

"Hi," the guy said, swallowing and nodding his head a bit nervously, "How's it going? Nice weather today, huh?"

"It makes well," Malespere agreed. The other guy looked at him oddly for a second, then continued speaking.

"So, you're, like, on your way to the Academy, right?"

"I would not be coming in this travel if not," Malespere said, trying to sound pleasant.

Again, the other guy stared at him.

Sighing, Malespere turned his Universal Translator2 back on. He'd been practicing his Standard3 for weeks now, but apparently he was still getting his words confused. Learning a new language was a pain in the ass!

"Sorry," he said, his words making a hell of a lot more sense now that they were filtered through the translator, "I was just trying to work on my Standard." He twisted awkwardly in his seat and offered his hand, "I'm Marc,"

"Bahred," the other guy said.

"Cool,"

They sat in silence for a few moments as the pilot guided the shuttle into a steep climb. They'd barely reached their sub-orbital cruising altitude when the shuttle began descending again.

Down both cramped sides of the shuttle, anxious young soon-to-be cadets started peering out the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of their soon-to-be-home.

"I hear the first month is brutal," somebody behind them said, "I've heard they, like, tie you to the wall and poke you with pain-sticks4,"

"SNAP," a spindly alien with black feathers agreed, "The Starfleet New Arrivals Program. I hear it was designed by Klingons,"

"I've heard they, like, make you run all the way to San Fransisco and back," a girl with blond hair (and a bit too much makeup) added.

"I've heard they treat you like an animal," a frightened looking Bolian1 boy gulped, "Nothing to eat but bread and water, and they beat you every time you speak,"

"Now you're just being ridiculous," another voice added, dripping with disdain, "Grow the hell up!"

Malespere and Bared turned to look at this latest speaker. He was tall and slim, with a green cast to his skin and deep bags under his eyes. His hair was mussed, his cloths were wrinkled and he gave off a definite sense of hostility.

"What happened to you?" Malespere demanded.

"A five day trip from Waystation happened to me, what the hell is it to you?" the other man snarled.

"Jeez, chill, man," Malespere said, settling back into his seat.

"And if you look outside," the pilot announced over the cabin intercom, "You'll see that we're coming up on San Francisco. To starboard, you'll see Starfleet Command and the Admiralty. Starfleet Academy will be coming up to port shortly afterward.

Malespere tried to look cool and nonchalant as the others, including Bahred and the grumpy, greenish fellow, started peering out the view ports. It really wasn't a big deal, after all. He'd seen holograms of the Academy at the recruiting center; the real thing wouldn't be much different.

"Home for the next four years," the guy from Waystation mused out loud, rubbing his face tiredly as he looked down, "I've never even seen what the place looks like,"

"What?" one of the other passengers, a furred alien with vertical cat's-eye pupils exclaimed, "How can you have never seen the Academy? Images? Holograms? A fwarking post-card?"

"Can't say I really cared," the guy said, "I mean, I was coming here no matter what, so what difference did it make?"

"Really?" the nervous Bolian spoke up again, "B-but, like, you didn't want to find out about where you were going to live?"

The green man shrugged.

"I've moved a few times before," he said, "I guess I've gotten used to it." His tone again took on a note of disdain, "Not all of us are moving right out of mommy and daddy's house, you know,"

Abashed, the Bolian slumped back in his seat.

"That's stupid," the blond girl said, evidently not willing to give up, "I like, totally read up on the place and everything. I wanted to find out who else was coming this year, but they wouldn't tell me,"

"Why would you want to know that?" Bahred asked.

"Duh," the girl said, looked at Bahred like he was an idiot, "Because we're probably going to be living together for the next four years!"

"Whoop-dee-doo," the greenish man said, spinning a finger around in the air before turning back to his viewport.

"You don't have to be a jerk about it," the girl pouted.

Malespere gulped. Four years. It suddenly seemed like such a long time. He looked around the shuttle, seeing each of the occupants in a new light. How many of these scared looking kids would be in his Sector? His squad, even? If any of them were, then yes, they'd be living and working together very closely for at least four years. Even if they weren't in his Sector, they were still in his class. He'd still be seeing them round the Academy. He wouldn't mind having Bahred as a squad-mate, the guy seemed OK. But that blond girl was a ditz, and that guy from Waystation (Malespere noticed he looked somewhat older than the other passengers) sounded like he wasn't the kind of guy Malespere wanted to be around.

Four years.

What was he getting himself into? He'd always considered himself to be well-traveled for his nineteen years, having traveled all over Earth in search for a new thrill, or a new adventure. But, somehow, he'd rarely made it off-world. His parents had firmly believed that the Terran System1 should be more than enough for any human, and had actively discouraged him from traveling any further than Jupiter's moons. Sure, he'd seen aliens around, who hadn't? This was the 24th Century after all. But now he suddenly realized that he might have somebody like the furry-guy with the cats-eyes as a roommate.

His previous nonchalance forgotten, Malespere turned to peer out the viewport, his eyes scanning the countryside outside.

There it was.

As the shuttle arced past the gracefully curving Golden Gate bridge, Starfleet Academy came into view.

A single tower dominated the campus, its gleaming windows shining in the sunlight. Stretching over 50 storeys tall, the tapered spire thrust up from the ground like a finger pointing to the sky. Surrounding it were dozens of smaller buildings, ranging from tiny, 4 or 5 storey brick buildings to sprawling, utilitarian complexes. Several large, grassy fields were evenly spaced around the perimeter of the campus, which was bordered on one side by San Francisco bay. The central tower was surrounded by what looked like formal gardens, with carefully laid out hedges, flower gardens, trees, shrubs and flowing water fountains. Trees grew in abundance around the buildings and along the streets, and several of the brick buildings were half-covered in flowing ivy. (Malespere had no idea whether or not San Fransisco was supposed to have ivy, but supposed it could have been brought in from elsewhere.) The shuttle slowly circled the campus, giving Malespere and the others plenty of time to soak in the details of their new home.

Malespere could see several tiny figures walking between the buildings. He noticed with surprise that they weren't dressed in uniforms, but instead appeared to be wearing civilian cloths. Maybe because it was the weekend? There didn't seem to be many cadets walking around at all.

As the shuttle finished its flyby, Malespere saw that the central tower had a docking complex about the third of the way up. To his surprise, the shuttle flew right past it, heading instead for a small landing field near the edge of the campus. As it came in for a landing, Malespere could see several uniformed cadets standing in a perfectly straight line. He realized with a jolt of excitement that this was probably the 'welcoming committee'

"Now arriving at Starfleet Academy," the pilot announced. For the first time, his voice lost its bored tone. In fact, Malespere was sure the man was fighting back a chuckle! "Good luck," he said. Then, under his breath, "Dear God, are you ever going to need it,"

"Not exactly encouraging," Bahred muttered nervously.

Malespere gulped.

Grabbing their bags (carry on only, the large items had been sent through the planetary transporter system), the shuttle-load of soon-to-be-cadets nervously started to disembark.

"LET'S GO! GET A MOVE ON!"

Several of the passengers jumped in surprise as the sharp, female voice broke through the shuttle.

"WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!"

Slowly, but quicker than before, the shuttle emptied out.

"FORM UP!"

"Wha?" Bahred blinked.

Four or five of the shuttle passengers promptly started forming a line, standing with their backs straight and their hands behind their backs. Bared and Malespere looked at each other in confusion. They'd been told that once they arrived, they'd be sorted into their Sectors, but nobody had mentioned anything about this.

"I SAID FORM UP!" the speaker, a tiny, human female with dark hair was shouting, in a voice waaay out of proportion to her size, "That means you STAND IN A LINE AND DON"T TALK!"

Slowly, the passengers complied.

The small human walked along the line, a look of disgust on her face. Further ahead, the other cadets Malespere had spotted were standing calmly, hands behind their backs. Several of them appeared to be suppressing grins, or their species' equivalent method of expressing amusement.

Each of the cadets was dressed in a uniform that, quite frankly, Malespere could never have recalled seeing. He looked at the short human standing in front of them, noticing that she wore shiny black shoes, black pants with a thick red stripe up the side and burgundy tunics. Her collar was white, turtleneck-style. On each shoulder a metal rank insignia gleamed. A Starfleet comm-badge1 gleamed on the left breast. On her right arm was a round Federation emblem2, on the left was an image of Earth. A black line started at the center of her collar, then ran horizontally to her right shoulder before turning sharply and running down to her navel in sort of strange half-diamond. Malespere was wondering what the hell that was for when she suddenly tugged on her jacket. There was the sound of Velcro as the tunic parted along the black line, revealing a white underlining. Snapping the resulting flap into place, the female now sported a white diamond stretching from her shoulder down to the opposite hip3. It was, Malespere noted, a good look.

"Welcome," she said, "To Starfleet Academy. Consider yourself lucky; it's the weekend. That means you have a day to settle in before the fun starts. I'm senior classman Burch, and I am the Cadet Executive Officer for the Academy. I'll be dividing you into your Sectors. These cadets," she motioned to the people standing behind her, "Are the Squad Leaders for the lower classmen squads of your respective Sectors." She glared at the small group. "Do you know what squads and Sectors are?"

Several of them, including the group that had formed up immediately when told to, nodded yes. Others stared back blankly. The Bolian boy cringed.

Burch rolled her eyes.

"It didn't even occur to you lazy good-for-nothings to do a bit of research on the place before you got here?" she snapped, apparently ignoring those who claimed to know. Nobody answered her; they simply stared. She gave a theatrical sigh.

"The Academy is divided into Sectors. Each Sector is named after a sector of space in the Federation. Sector 1 is the Terran Sector. Sector 2 is the Vulcan Sector, then you have Andorian Sector, Rigel Sector and so on. Just hope to God you don't get stuck in Antares Sector."

"Why?" the greenish man asked.

"DON'T TALK IN RANKS!" Burch snapped, eyes blazing, "Anyway, each Sector is divided in squads, based on your year. But I suppose we have plenty of time to teach you all this fun stuff. Luckily, it's not my job." She motioned at the cadets standing behind her, "It's theirs." Let's get this finished with, so I can get back to doing something important, shall we?"

She pulled a padd off of her belt.

"Ak'th's'par," she called, "Terran Sector." Behind her, one of the squad leaders took a step forward. None of the shuttle passengers moved.

"And which of you is Ak'th's'par?" Burch demanded.

"M-me," the black-feathered alien spoke up.

"Then don't just stand there," Burch said, her voice taking on a dark, silky tone. "GET THE HELL OVER THERE!" she pointed at the squad leader, the silky tone lost as though somebody had suddenly twisted her volume knob.

Squealing in surprise, Ak'th's'par grabbed its bag and hurried across the landing field.

"Bared…" Burch trailed off, and for the first time, Malespere could see genuine amusement on her face, "What, are you from a nudist colony or something?"

"It's 'Bah-red', Bahred said nervously.

"I see. Antares Sector." Burch said. She stared at Bahred for a moment. "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?"

"Huh?"

"GET THE HELL OVER THERE!" screamed.

She turned back to her padd as Bahred scurried across the landing field.

"Civix, Rigel Sector. Derethensi, Vulcan Sector. Exoter, Altair Sector. Furgeson, Andorian Sector." As she called the names, the indicated people, having finally taken the hint, grabbed their bags and walked across the field.

"Malespere, Antares Sector,"

Malespere walked across the field, not sure if he should be relieved that he was going to be with Bahred, or worried that he was in the supposedly-dreaded Antares Sector. He was soon joined by Gallium, the nervous Bolian boy and Veksai, the greenish man. They stood in a line facing a shorter bald man. He stood ram-rod straight and was dressed identically to Burch, with the exception of the left arm. Where Burch had an image of Earth at the top of her sleeve, this cadet had a different planet.

"I am senior classman Mecablox," he said, a strange accent colouring his words, "I will be your squad leader for SNAP, and for the remainder of the first term. Pick up your bags, I will march you to our Sector quarters." He paused, then frowned at them.

"You do know how to march, right?"

They stared blankly back at him.

Mecablox sighed.

"Just swing your arms and keep your elbows straight. Follow me,"

He started leading them deeper into the campus.

"We'll be living in Fort Pike," he said, "It is not the best, but it is home. You will be in Brute Squad, the Antares Sector lower-classman squad,"

There was a groan from behind Malespere. It was the Gallium, the Bolian boy."

"You know what he's talking about?" Malespere said softly.

"My secondary sister graduated from the Academy last year," Gallium said, "She said 'Whatever you do, don't end up in Fort Pike1',"

"Did she say why-" Malespere started to ask.

"Don't talk in rank," Mecablox said calmly.

Malespere shut up. Well, he mused, at least this guy is more polite about it. That's a good sign.

Further back in the line, Veksai was thinking the exact opposite. He didn't know squat about SNAP, or the Sectors, or how things were done at the Academy. But he did know that Mecablox's calm attitude was probably not a good thing. Burch had probably been harsh because she'd only be with the new arrivals for a very short time. Mecablox, on the other hand, would be with them for a while, and Veksai was willing to bet that his 'Mr. Nice-Guy' personae would be ending when the weekend did.

As they walked down the tree-lined street, Mecablox took a left turn, leading them to one of the ivy-coated brick buildings.

"So, we're like, not living in that tower?" Bahred asked, pointing at the central building that dominated the Academy campus.

"In Khitomer Building?" Mecablox shook his head, "No. Lower Classmen are only permitted inside Khitomer Building, or 'Spire', as we sometimes call it, for classes during SNAP. Khitomer Building is primarily comprised of administrative offices, laboratories and classrooms. You will not live there, even after SNAP. Fort Pike is…adequate."

The building they were approaching was a four-story, circular affair. Rows of windows glinted in the sunlight. Mecablox led them under an archway into a circular courtyard inside the building. As they walked across it to the double entrance doors, Veksaid and Malespere noticed several pieces of debris littering the courtyard: A chunk of stone that had fallen off the room of the building, an outer panel from a window and a few chunks of unidentifiable piping. As they approached the doors, only one of the two panels slid out of the way. Mecablox deftly slid through the opening, while the cadet right behind him banged his shoulder on the broken panel. Inside the small foyer, several broken pieces of furniture were piled against one wall. The stone walls were scuffed, some of the lighting panels were flickering and an 'Out of Order' sign hung on the turbolift1. Veksai looked around at the devastation, and wondered if this was a test of some kind, or if Starfleet actually intended for them to live in this hellhole.

"We'll be living on the first floor," Mecablox said, guiding the group down into a curved corridor with several doors leading off both sides. The doors were as scuffed as the rest of the corridor, and each had two small signs. Veksai wasn't surprised when he saw Gallium's name on the first set of doors. Obviously the Academy had had ample time to prepare for them.

So why couldn't they fix up the damned building?

"Find your rooms," Mecablox said, "You have some time to settle in before dinner. I will give you half an hour, then we will meet and I will show you where the dining hall is,"

"Uh, which room is ours?" Gallium asked.

"They're labelled," Veksai grunted, pointing, "Just find the one with your name on it. If you'll excuse me, I've been stuck on various transports for the past 5 days, and I need to rest,"

He took a few steps down the hall and quickly found a room that had his name on it, along with the name 'Narf'. He strode forward, expecting the doors to slide open. He was somewhat surprised when, instead, he hit them face first, flattening his nose.2

"Ooops," Mecablox said calmly as Veksai cursed, "I almost forgot," he stepped over to a large control panel set into the wall. He removed a cover, then pulled an isolinear chip3 from his pocket and slid it into one of the slots, "The doors will work now,"

"Almost forgot?" Veksai snapped, "You DID forget!"

"I suggest you adjust that attitude before the weekend ends," Mecablox calmly advised him.

Veksai just glared.

"We're roommates, huh?" Bahred said to Malespere, noticing that their names were both on the door to one of the rooms,"

"Sweet," Malespere replied.

"Well," Gallium said, "I don't know about you guys, but I've gotta use the little blue boys room,"

"Down the hall, to your left," Mecablox said calmly.

He'd taken no more than half a dozen paces when, with a groan, the floor beneath him abruptly gave way. There was a crash and a surprised yelp as Gallium disappeared from view, replaced by a cloud of dust. The others quickly rushed over, peering over the edge of the hole into the basement below.

"Are you broken?" Mecablox asked, not really sounding like he cared one way or another.

"Mommy, can I have some chocolates?" Gallium groaned.

"He must have hit his head," Bahred said, sounding worried.

"I'll get him," Malespere said, positioning himself at the edge of the hole, "I do a lot of climbing, this'll be a snap,"

"Uh," Veksai tried interrupted.

"No man, it's cool," Malespere shushed him, "Let's do this! Our man's down, and we're gonna go down there and f**king do this!"

"But-"

Ignoring him, Malespere started lowing himself into the hole. Beneath him, Gallium was mumbling something about candy-coated Titanic propellers.

"Don't just stand there," Mecablox said, watching as Malesphere dangled from his fingertips, "Help him!"

With a sign, Veksai opened the door labelled 'Stairs', which he had been trying to bring to Malespere's attention, and walked down.

He found Malespere hunched over Gallium, helping the Bolian to his feet.

"He's fine," he assured Veksai, "Just a bit shaken up, right big guy?"

"Happy exacto-blade tree reactor," Gallium mumbled.

"Atta-boy!" Malespere slapped him on the back, onto to have to lunge forward to keep him from falling over, "Hey, how did you get down here anyway?"

Veksai, already irritated from lack of sleep, just gave Malespere a dark look, then started leading Gallium up the stairs. The French cadet was about to follow when he heard something.

"Hello?" he asked, turning away from the stairs and peering into the gloomy basement, "Is somebody there?"

Another sound: Not quite a growl, not quite a breath. But there.

Slowly following the noise, Malespere found himself facing a battered, hinge-style door. The noise was coming from directly behind it.

"Hello?" he called again, pushing the door open. A large shape was hunched in one corner. There was an intake of breath, then Malespere saw a pair of deep-red eyes open directly in front of him.

"Oh shit," he muttered.

"What is taking Mr. Malespere so long?" Mecablox mused as he placed a 'caution' sign next to the gaping hole in the floor. Veksai had led Gallium to his room, to recover, and was currently in the midst of a sneezing fit due to the large amount of dust. Bahred was peering into the hole.

There was a high-pitched scream, then the sound of running footsteps. Seconds later, Malespere burst out of the stairwell.

"RUN!" he screamed, bolting for the exit, eyes wide with terror, "IT'S BIG, AND IT'S GOT TEETH!"

Bahred looked up.

"Wha?" he asked, staring dumbly in the direction Malespere had gone. He looked back to the stairwell, took about half a second to look at the scaled, fanged and clawed creature that had followed Malespere up, screamed, and then took off running after Malespere.

Mecablox turned to face the newcomer.

"Mr. M'Kr'gr," Mecablox said, "What were you doing in the basement?"

The six-and-a-half foot reptile turned to regard Mecablox.

"It was suggested that I might find the damp corners more comfortable," he replied, his fangs glinting in the light. .

"That area is out-of-bounds," Mecablox said, "Do not go there again,"

"Very well," M'Kr'gr bowed slightly.

"Good. Now go bring back Mr. Malespere and Mr. Bahred."

As M'Kr'gr turned to go, Mecablox looked around quickly. Gallium was lying on his bunk rubbing his head. The other members of his squad either had not arrived or were out enjoying their last weekend of freedom. Veksai was now in his new room, making a vain effort to clean out the dust and cobwebs. Assured for the moment that all was well, he walked down the corridor, carefully skirting past the new hole. In moments, he'd reached the Fort Pike Security Office, a grungy room with a communications and surveillance panel. He was utterly unsurprised to find Buhras Adi and Vexnar, two of his Team Leaders, huddled over the panel and watching the security feed from the Brute Squad hallway. Buhras, a Bajoran female, was laughing uproariously while Vexnar, an Andorian1 male, bared his teeth in amusement.

"So you were the ones who told M'Kr'gr to hide in the basement?" Mecablox demanded.

"That was awesome!" Buhras laughed, hitting the 'replay' button, then pointing at the look of sheer terror on Malespere's face as he raced out of the building. Vexnar said nothing.

"You could have hurt Gallium," Mecablox said.

"I think not," Vexnar said, his dry voice deceptively soft, "The floor-"

"Should have been repaired," Mecablox said, "Would you want to injure one of your cadets before SNAP even started?"

"It wouldn't be anything the Infirmary couldn't fix," Buhras objected.

"Unless the cadet was very lucky," Vexnar hissed.

"Don't be silly," Buhras said, "Falling and breaking your neck isn't an honourable death!" She frowned, then turned back to look at the Andorian, "Is it?"

"I will have to check my '75,000 Ways to Die Horribly' handbook," Vexnar said, unconsciously rubbing one of the two antennas that sprouted from his head, "But I think not, no,"

Mecablox put his hands on his hips.

"We have enough ways to make them miserable," he said, "Don't do anything stupid! The idea is to wear them down and wear them out, not to kill them!"

Vexnar started to raise his hand.

"And no, we will NOT be driving them to commit ritual suicide!" Mexablox added firmly.

"But-"

"NO!"

"Just one?" Vexnar whined.

Mecablox turned to go, shaking his head.

"Leave them alone for now," he said, "Monday morning, they are all yours,"

Shortly thereafter, Mecablox was leading the group down the street that led to the dining hall. Malespere and Bahred had calmed down, but were still casting nervous glances in M'Kr'gr's direction. Veksai was trying to simultaneously march and brush dust off his cloths. Every now and then he'd reach ahead to nudge Gallium back on course, as the dazed Bolian kept veering to the right like a alcoholic veering towards a liquor store. They'd been joined by two more cadets as they left Fort Pike, but Mecablox wasn't allowing them to speak during the walk.

They were trying to listen as Mecablox droned on about the different buildings they were passing. They'd passed many more dormitories, all of them appearing to be in better condition than Fort Pike. Near the base of the Spire, they found the Lower-Classmen Dining Hall. Mecablox led them inside. Malespere and Veksai looked around, noting the wood paneling in the walls, the solid oak tables and the framed images of various starships1 hanging on the walls.

"Nice place," Bahred commented.

"This is, like, so totally sweet," Malespere said, rubbing his hands together and looking like a kid who'd just walked into a candy store.

Mecablox led them through the mostly-empty tables to a bank of replicators2 located on the rear wall.

"Food time!" Malespere said. He walked up to one replicator.

"I want chicken breast in a white wine sauce, a little field rice, easy on the ginger, Caesar salad and a chocolate protein shake,) he ordered.

Nothing happened.

"Lower-classmen have a limited menu," Mecablox explained calmly. He showed Malespere how to access the daily menu listing.

"Aw, man, you gotta be kidding me!" Malespere groaned as he looked over the very, very limited menu.  
"Whatever," Veksai said, walking up to the next replicator and tapping away, "I just want to eat and go to bed,"

They quickly obtained their meals and found a table.

"Once you finish your first year, you will be permitted into the Junior Classmen Dining Hall," Mecablox said calmly, "They have a wider selection. Enjoy,"

He walked away, taking a table near the door.

"I'm Dylan," one of the new cadets introduced himself, "Dylan Baxter. I got here yesterday, easy trip. Just been chillin', y'know, takin' it easy before SNAP,"

The rest introduced themselves.

"What the heck's wrong with you, anyway?" Baxter asked Veksai, "Yer like, all green and pale. Did you, like, get really airsick on the way over?"

"I'm half Orion," Veksai said.

"Orion," M'Kr'gr said, looking thoughtful, "A race of thieving pirates. Violent, aggressive and likely to stab unsuspecting victims in the back," he extended a hand to Veksai, "It is a pleasure to meet you,"

"Thanks," Veksai said dully, "And we're not all thieving pirates you know. Just like all Italians aren't mobsters,"

"I love O'Ryan's," Baxter said happily, trying to fit into the conversation, "That bar's got the best beer and wing night in town! That's what happened, you had too much beer?"

Everybody stared at Baxter for a moment.

"That is the stupidest thing I've heard anybody say," Veksai said.

"Yeah, well, your mother wears Klingon boots!" Baxter giggled.

"I stand corrected," Veksai muttered.

"And you?" Malespere asked, turning to the last member of their party, a tiny female cadet with skin the colour of chocolate, "Who are you?"

"We," she said, somewhat imperiously, "are Princess Akavarti Kunami, First Princess and heir to the throne of Banda 4,"

"Huh?" Baxter looked over at her, "I only see one of you. What's with the 'we'?"

"It is customary for those of us with royal blood to refer to ourselves in plural,"

She looked around for a moment, noting the unimpressed looks on Veksai and M'Kr'gr's faces, the baffled expressions on Bahred and Malespere's faces and the look of complete and total confusion on Baxter's.

"OK, forget it," she said, stabbing her fork into her food, "I'm a princess, goody for me, la-dee-da. Can we move on to the next part of the conversation?" She'd failed to notice that her violent fork thrust had sent a piece of potato skin onto the floor.

"Uh, sure," Bahred said.

The six cadets sat in silence for a moment.

"Perhaps one of you could explain this SNAP thing to me," Veksai said finally.

"You, like, don't know about SNAP?" Baxter's eyes widened ever more, "F**k, man! It's like, the hardest part of this whole Academy thing! They're gonna, like, put us right through hell! We're gonna be running, and doing push-ups, and getting inspected. Oh, and then there's the Survival Challenge,"

"How do you know so much about this?" Malespere frowned.

"My father's brother's cousin's…" Baxter trailed off, "Well, a relative of mine anyway is a starship captain. He told me all about SNAP,"

"Whatever it is, we're TOTALLY gonna ROCK!" Malespere said, slamming a fist on the table.

"Uh-huh," Veksai said, looking doubtful, "What ship?"

"What do you mean, what ship?" Baxter asked.

"What ship does your relative command, you twit!"

"The USS Explorer!" Baxter said proudly.

Veksai laughed, nearly choking on a piece of lasagne.

"What's so funny?"

"I used to live on Waystation," he said.

Baxter looked at him blankly.

"A space station. Near the Multek1 border."

Blank stares.

"The Explorer's been there a few times," Veksai explained, "Anytime they visit, their security chief trashes at least one restaurant, their telepath probes our minds like there's no tomorrow, the operations office hides behind the potted plants in the mall and the chief engineer breaks somebody's nose. Oh, and their doctor nearly killed Waystation's security chief once." He chuckled, "They're ever worse than that Silverado bunch,"

Baxter still had that blank look on his face.

"So?" he finally demanded.

"Your relative commands a ship of idiots!" Veksai said sharply.

"You're an idiot!" Baxter shot back.

"No, YOU'RE an idiot!"

"YOU'RE the idiot!"

"I take it you are all finished?"

Heads turned to find Mecablox standing at the head of the table,"

"Actually-" Malespere started.

"I'm hearing a lot of loud conversation from this table. It sounds to me like you're finished eating," Mecablox said firmly, "Let's go,"

"But we're not finished eating," Kumari objected. She'd barely touched her replicated samosa, "And this replicated food is…is…"

"Perfectly acceptable," Mecablox cut her off, "Come. Now."

The cadets exchanged glances.

"Do not make me tell you again," Mecablox said calmly.

Grumbling, the six started carrying their trays to the reclamators2. They'd barely made it two steps with Kumari's foot shot out from under her. A potato skin went whizzing through the air as she fell back, losing her grip on her tray. Uneaten food items flew in all directions, peppering Kumari and the surrounding cadets.

"Oopsies," she groaned, lying flat on the floor.

The remainder of the evening was relatively uneventful. Veksai managed to cleanse the dust from his room, only to have a fresh cloud waft in the door when Malespere and M'Kr'gr started a competition to see who could do the most push-ups. Kumari and Bahred started watching a 'Days of Honour'1 re-run on a vidscreen2 in one of the rooms. Finally, they drifted off to their own rooms.

The next morning was equally quiet. Mecablox again walked them to the dining hall for breakfast, then lunch. In the afternoon, more shuttles loaded with cadets started arriving, turning the airspace around the Academy into a maelstrom of darting shuttlecraft. Unlike the earlier shuttle, which had primarily carried cadets from across the planet, these shuttles were coming down from Spacedock, the huge space station in Earth orbit. Cadets from across the Federation were pouring into the Academy. Mecablox left several times, returning each time with scared looking cadets. Looking out one of the windows, Gallium and Kumari saw that dozens of uniformed squad commanders were leading new arrivals to their various Sectors. By the time evening rolled around again, Brute Squad was over 20 cadets strong.

"Everybody outside!" Mecablox called out loudly, walking through the corridor and deftly avoiding the hole in the floor, "Let's get a move on!"

Exchanging confused glances, the cadets trudged their way out of their rooms and started towards the exit. Malespere found himself walking between Bahred and a tall, slim Centaurian. The younger boy had introduced himself earlier, but Malespere couldn't remember even half of the arrivals. There was some half-hearted chatter, but most of the new arrivals were too tired from their trips (and respective time zone changes) to say much.

Once outside, Mecablox led them out of the circular courtyard and onto a side path that led towards the bay. Waiting were three cadets, each wearing the same burgundy tunic as Mecablox.

"Look," Mecablox pointed. The new arrivals followed his gaze and found themselves looking across the bay at the city of San Fransisco. The sun had set, and the lights of the city were reflecting off the water. "Do you know what is happening over there right now?"

"Wing night at O'Ryan's?" Baxter asked. One of the uniformed cadets, an Andorian, sneered.

"Yes, actually," Mecablox said, "Wing night at O'Ryan's, a concert at the Vulcan Embassy, and dozens of others events. Federations citizens are living their lives in peace and security. They are enjoying their lives, leisure activities, sleeping in and all the enjoyable things that come with being a civilian. And why?"

"Because of the very large fleet of starships defending them?" Kumari ventured.

"Because of the people on those ships," Mecablox said, "Men and women who are dedicating their lives to the peaceful exploration of space, and to the defence of the Federation. You are here because, for whatever reason, you've decided you want to leave the cushy civilian life and join them. Whether or not you actually will depends on your success at the Academy,"

The new cadets were watching Mecablox carefully, paying close attention.

"You will have classes, lectures and theory along with laboratory and hands-on experience. You will be trained in the arts and the sciences, but you will also be trained in tactics and leadership. You will have athletic training and combat training."

"Combat?" Kumari asked, "But I thought Starfleet wasn't a military organization?"

Again, the Andorian cadet sneered at her, but Mecablox nodded.

"Ms. Kumari is right. Starfleet's primary purpose is exploration and diplomacy. But it is also charged with defence. It is a paramilitary organization, and you must be able to fight if necessary,"

"This is going to be the busiest time of your lives," Mecablox went on, "But if you succeed, you will look back on it as one of the best. The first stage of your training, SNAP, starts tomorrow."

Veksai, who had been starting to grow a bit impatient with the rhetoric, perked up.

"The Starfleet New Arrivals Program is designed to teach you the skills you will need at the Academy. You will be put through physical and mental trials that will test your limits. At the end of SNAP is the Survival Challenge, after which you will officially be welcomed into the Academy."

Mecablox stepped to the side, gesturing to the three uniformed cadets as he did.

"Meet your Team Leaders. This is mid-classman Buhras," he said, introducing a dark-haired Bajoran woman, "She will be leading Team 3. Mid-classman Vexnar," the Andorian male stepped forward, "is Team Leader of Team 2. And mid-classman Kethnor, who will be leading Team 1,"

The third cadet had been standing in the shadows, and as he stepped forward, Malespere was amazed to see that he was a Klingon. He was also a lot shorter than the Klingons he'd seen on the vidscreen. A LOT shorter. Gallium gulped, noticing Kethnor's jagged teeth and ridged forehead. Kumari took an involuntary step back and M'kr'gr bared his fangs.

"These three will be leading you through SNAP," Mecablox said, "You will follow their instructions exactly. But remember, they are here to test your limits,"

He took one more look around at the gathered cadets.

"We start first thing tomorrow morning. Go to bed, you need your rest,"

Taking a last look at the city, the cadets followed him back towards Fort Pike.

"They have no idea what's in store for them, do they?" Buhras giggled.

"They do not," Kethnor grinned darkly.

"I'll enjoy showing them," Vexnar said, cracking his knuckles.

Next: When it rains, it pours! Can Malespere, Bahred, Kumari and the others survive the first week of SNAP? What do Kethnor, Buhras and Vexnar have in store for them? Find out in Star Traks: Crash Course 1.2 – 'No Pain, No Gain'

1 USS Explorer – Flagship of the Explorer project and one of many 'ship of rejects' (Star Traks: The Vexed Generation)

2 Comm-badge – The 24th equivalent of a cell phone.

3 It's messy. Don't ask.

1 The original 'ship of rejects', originally commanded by Captain Alexander Rydell. (Star Traks: The Original Series)

2 A space station commanded by Captain Lisa Beck. Waystation is home to the Dillon Enterprises HQ, a Starfleet Academy Annex and the horniest officer in the fleet: Sean Russell. (Star Traks: Waystation)

3 The USS Banshee, another 'ship of rejects' is listed as destroyed. In reality, the crew faked the ship's destruction to join Section 31, the Federations ultra-secret service. (Star Traks: Banshee)

4 The USS Silverado, yet another 'ship of rejects', is the flagship of 'Operation Salvage', a project that recycles old and decommissioned starships. (Star Traks: Silverado)

5 McBaughb's – An Andorian fast-food chain. Spleen pie is a specialty.

1 Orbital skydiving. It's like skydiving, only from a spaceship. Dress warmly.

2 PADD – Personal Access Display Device. The 24th century version of a PDA.

1 Velvattian slime is actually harmless, has a pleasant scent and completely evaporates after a few minutes. If Bahred would actually get out of the shower instead of staying wet, it would quickly vanish. Idiot.

1 Dilithium – A rare crystal required for faster-than-light propulsion.

1 Bajorans – A highly religious race, characterized by a ridge on the bridge of their nose. Mostly featured in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

2 Parians – A race of genetically engineered aliens created by a Gorn named Slezar. A blend of Klingons, Gorn and Andorian, the project that created the Parians was disguised as an attempt to allow Slezar and his wife to have a child. Their child, T'Parief, serves aboard the USS Silverado, and was unaware that he was the prototype for an entirely new race until Slezar used him and the Silverado crew to bring his plans to fruition. (Star Traks: Silverado – Season 2, Stories 2.7, 2.8, 2.15, 2.16, 2.17, 2.18 and 2.19)

1 Commander Matthew Noonan – Served as first officer aboard the USS Silverado for nearly three years before returning to Earth to persue other endeavors. Noonan's strange appearance and abilities caused more than a bit of friction between himself and his crewmates, eventually leading to his decision to leave the ship. (Star Traks: Silverado – Season 3, Stories 3.12 and 3.14)

1 Non-humanoid – Humanoid refers to a being with the same overall shape as a human being. Non-humanoid would refer to beings that differ greatly, such as blobs of slime, giant insects or Cher.

2 Universal Translator – A device that instantaneously translates languages, making it appear that the speaker is in fact speaking in your native tounge.

3 Standard – The predominant language spoken in the Federation. Chosen for its relative simplicity, most member races use it as a second language, at the very least. Universal Translators, however, have made all but eliminated a need for a common language. (Unless the damned things are broken.)

4 Pain-sticks – A Klingon device used in numerous rituals and ceremonies, pain-sticks use energy surges to generate intense pain. Think of cattle-prods, only for people.

1 Bolians – A race characterized by blue skin, nose ridges, baldness and a slight obsession with Earth.

1 Terran System – The solar system containing Earth.

1 Comm-badge – A communications device. Once a flip-style gadget similar to cell phones, current communications devices are built into a badge that is worn on the chest.

2 The Federation Emblem - A blue circle filled with stars. Three stars are larger than the rest, representing Earth, Vulcan and Andor as founding members of the Federation. The circle is surrounded by two wreaths.

3 This style of uniform was seen in several of the Star Trek motion pictures, from 2 to 6.

1 Christoper Pike commanded the USS Enterprise in the first Star Trek pilot, 'The Cage'. He was replaced by James Kirk in the second pilot. I don't remember what that one was called…knowing the first one makes me enough of a nerd as it is.

1 Turbolift – A high-tech elevator. Turbolifts can travel in any direction and are used for provide rapid transit inside starships, space stations and large buildings. The one in Fort Pike however, only goes up and down. Or it would, if it wasn't busted.

2 Science-fiction type doors usually open automatically, and can magically sense when somebody is planning to enter a room as opposed to walking by. (Actually a group of rebellious door AIs once tried to take over the USS Secondprise, but that's a different story.) When the doors don't work, people usually end up with nosebleeds. If, that is, they are a species that include noses as part of their anatomy.

3 Isolinear Optical Chip – A component of Federation technology. They're actually a LOT like USB keys, in that they store data and fit into universal slots. Strange, considering Star Trek had Isolinear Chips about 15 years before USB keys were invented.

1 Andorians – One of those Star Trek races that were mentioned a lot, but never really explored. Andorians have blue skin, white hair and a funny pair of antennae-things sticking out of their heads. Anthony Butler did a hilarious job of making Andorians a delightfully violent race in his Vexed Generation stories. He wrote them as being warlike, always in the mood for a good fight and ready for ritual suicide at the drop of a hat. In Anthony's world, Andorians send assassins the way humans send greeting cards. I really prefer Anthony's idea of Andorians compared to the s**t that Star Trek: Enterprise tried to develop.

1 Starship – Like a space ship, only cooler.

2 Replicators – Fabrication devices. Replicators alter the bonds between atoms, converting a sludge-like paste into food, clothing, equipment or almost anything else you could imagine. Results may vary.

1 Multeks – Oh geez. I don't even know how to explain this one. They hated aliens a lot, and used to pretend to fire weapons at imaginary ships that were actually real. If you really want to know, read the Star Traks Waystation Premier: 'In-the-Way Station'.

2 Reclamators – Sometimes called recyclers or matter reclaimation units. Basically, the reverse of replicators, these devices manipulate the atomic bonds between molecules, converting objects into the sludge used by replicators.

1 Days of Honour - A Klingon soap opera. People get stabbed, sometimes gutted. Creation credit for this one goes to Anthony Butler and/or Alan Decker. I forget, really.

2 Vidscreen - Combination television and computer display. If you needed that explained, maybe science-fiction isn't for you.


	2. Year 1 - SNAP To It!

Star Trek is the property of Paramount, and was created by Gene Roddenberry.

Star Traks is the property and creation of Alan Decker. The number of Star Traks spin-offs is growing rapidly, so if I try to list them all here, the disclaimer will be longer than the actual story.

Star Traks: Crash Course is my demented creation.

The events and characters depicted in this story are completely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is intended as humorous flattery. However, if there isn't a character that resembles you, try not to take it personally. Or maybe you should. Maybe I just don't like you. (But that's probably not the case.)

(But maybe it is.)

Copyright 2008

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

1.2 – "SNAP To It!"

Veksai lay in bed, waiting for the fun to start.

It was the first morning of SNAP, the Starfleet New Arrivals Program. And, apparently, it was really going to suck.

Veksai craned his neck, looking at the small alarm clock built into his headboard. 05:58 hours. Across the tiny room his new roommate, Cadet Nuhvill, was snoring loudly. He really didn't know what to expect this first morning, but he didn't think he was going to like it. Still, the hours weren't that bad, considering that on Waystation he was usually on his way to the Dillon Enterprises decks by this time.

05:59 hours. Whatever they had planned, Veksai just wanted it to start already. This waiting was killing him! Were they going to force him to do push-up after push-up? Was he going to have to complete some ridiculous task? WHAT?

Suddenly, there was a booming crash from the hallway, sounding like somebody had just struck a bass drum the size of a small house. Veksai jerked so hard he fell right out of bed, landing in a heap on the floor and sending up a fresh puff of dust. A deep, male voice began belting out lyrics, drawing each word out like a bug smeared on a windshield:

'ooooooooooooom Do'!  
paaaaarHaaaaaaaa' ech maaS!  
SoooooooooooooH choooooooH laaaaaaH!

"What the f**k?" Nuhvel groaned.

Out in the hallway, Team Leader Buhras tapped a control on the hallway panel, causing every dorm room door to hiss open.

"OUT OF BED!" she shrieked, "YOU'VE GOT UNTIL THE MUSIC STOPS TO BE READY FOR FITNESS! TEETH BRUSHED! MALE MAMMELS BETTER BE SHAVED! REPTILES BETTER HAVE PROPERLY OILED SCALES!"

"Is she kidding?" Veksai asked, eyebrows rising.

"FURRED SPECIES WILL HAVE THEIR BODY FUR NEATLYCOMBED!" Vexnar shrieked, "CRUSTATIONS WILL HAVE EGG NODULES REMOVED AND BODY SLIME AT A MINIMUM!"

Veksai lept out of his bed, rushing towards the single small sink and mirror contained in his room. Unfortunately, Nuhvill was rushing to the exact same place at the exact same time. The two collided, falling to the floor and scrambling to get back to their feet.

Just down the hall, Malespere and Bahred barely heard the thump. Malespere was brushing his teeth while Bahred was hopping around on one foot, trying to pull his running shoe on. There was a deafening shriek from Gallium's room, followed by a PLOP! as his new Valvattian roommate untangled itself from the nest of wall hooks it used as a bed. In the background, the hellish music continued to blare:

ngop Serrum!  
je Qoong!  
muDnaQ yIn!  
wa'DIch ngIS!

"What in the name of Shiva is that hideous racket!" Kumari cried, trying desperately to comb her hair. Her roommate, Bizkit, had somehow managed to get lost in her t-shirt. Next door to them, a cadet named Zenith was ignoring the instructions of the Team Leaders, instead trying desperately trying to wipe red hair off his cloths. His roommate, Val'gural, had arrived during the night and was Barudan1, a race that just happened to be covered from head to toe in bright red fur.

je vaj Segho'!  
HurDI' yaH 'oH!  
jIQ'ooooooooooooooooooooooor!

"YOU'RE ALMOST OUT OF TIME, BRUTE SQUAD!" Buhras screamed, straining to be heard over the music, which seemed to be reaching a climax. M'Kr'gr, having no need to shave or do his hair, was just scrambling into the hallway. His roommate, another newly arrived cadet named Fastocheni, was in the process of pulling his shirt on as M'Kr'gr rushed by. Unable to see where he was going, one of his very large feet came down square on M'Kr'gr's tail. M'Kr'gr roared in surprise and jumped, cracking his head on the doorjamb and falling the floor. Fastocheni, his one foot flying in the air as M'Kr'gr's tail was pulled out from under it, fell flat on his ass with a very painful sounding 'THUD!'

je woQ!  
'oH tet chaH paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarHa aa' chuuuuuuuch!

With a loud flourish of drums and other assorted banging noises, the music ceased.

"EVERYBODY IN THE HALL! NOW!" Buhras screamed, her voice sounding twice as loud in the sudden silence.

With a scramble, the last of the Brute Squad cadets pulled themselves out of their rooms.

Just around the curved corridor, Squad Leader Mecablox braced himself and prepared for his entry. He was wearing the approved Starfleet Academy athletic wear, that being a grey t-shirt with red shoulders and a pair of red shorts. Behind him, his deputy, mid-classman Yanar Drain, was scratching behind his ears. With his left leg. (Drain was a Sheppian, a race that loosely resembled German Shephards that could walk on their hind legs.)

"Stop it, Yanar," he said, "We are supposed to look intimidating,"

"Huh?" Drain stopped scratching, then bared his teeth in a growl.

"Betterrrrr?" he asked.

"Yes, much," Mecablox said.

"Ohh, does that mean I'm a good dog?" Drain's ears perked up (literally) as his tongue lolled down out of his mouth.

"For the love of God," Mecablox sighed, "Please do not start licking yourself in the middle of an inspection, OK?"

"OK!"

They stepped purposefully through an open doorway and into the lower-classman section of Fort Pike, careful to step around the gaping hole in the floor. Mecablox's eyes widened as they gazed over his Squad.

Veksai and Nuhvel were both holding their heads and wincing. Mecablox could see swellings where matching goose-eggs were already forming. One of Veksai's shoes was missing, and Nuhvel had almost enough stubble to form a full moustache. Malespere and Bahred were at least dressed, although Bahred was wearing mismatched socks. Gallium was still in his pajamas, flinching away from the huge, tentacled-monster that had moved into his room during the night. The Valvattian, to its credit, was at least free of egg nodules. Baxter was at least in the hall, but the fumes emanating from his mouth betrayed his poor oral hygiene. His roommate, a Russian boy named Igor, looked like he was going to be sick. Kumari and Bizkit were each missing a running shoe, the other was untied. M'Kr'gr and Fastocheni had both managed to knock themselves unconscious and were lying sprawled out on the floor.

"This is," Mecablox said, struggling to keep a straight face, "most disappointing,"

He turned to Buhras, Vexnar and Kethnor, who were standing in the hallway, looking severely at the cadets.

"Have them ready in 5 minutes," he said curtly, then left.

He wasn't sure, but Veksai thought he could hear barely restrained laughter as Mecablox and Drain departed.

No sooner had he turned away then the three Team Leaders leapt into action.

"THAT WAS DISGUSTING!" Buhras shouted, her voice ringing off the walls, "NEVER, NEVER HAVE I BEEN SO HUMILIATED BY A GROUP OF CADETS! YOU'LL HAVE TO DO MUCH, MUCH BETTER THAN THIS, BRUTE SQUAD!"

"You!" Kethnor said sharply, pointed at Veksai and Nuhvel, "You will both shave immediately." They hesitated, staring unsteadily at him.

"NOW!" he snapped. With a jump, they darted back into their room.

"What is this?" Vexnar hissed, surveying Kumari and Bizkit, "You don't know how to properly dress yourselves?"

"Actually, I had servants who dressed me," Kumari said, nose slightly uplifted.

"Oh, well excuse me for not helping you!" Vexnar snapped, his antennae shifting in irritation.

"You are excused," Kumari said regally.

With a snarl, Vexnar slammed one fist into wall next to Kumari.

"I AM A WARRIOR OF THE 12TH HIVE! NOT A LOWLY SERVANT!" he snarled, "YOU WILL DRESS YOURSELVES, PROPERLY! NOW!"

With a squeak, Kumari vanished into her room.

"WHAT IS THIS!" Buhras was snapping, plucking a tuft of red fur off of Zenith's shirt, "Were you rolling around in this crap, or are you just incapable of cleaning it off?"

Malespere and Bahred exchanged glances, watching the chaos around them. Malespere found it interesting to watch how each Team Leader interacted with their cadets. Buhras was pure volume, her voice reaching levels that Malespere was certain a girl her size should not be able to produce. Vexnar, while quieter, had a strange sort of dryness to him, like he held everybody in contempt. Kethnor wasn't shouting…he was giving instructions to his cadets in a low, growling voice that somehow managed to sound calmer, yet just as menacing as either Vexnar or Buhras.

Of course, their observations were interrupted when Burhas came by, snarling at them both to get their asses in gear instead of standing around like a pair of dull-witted Mugato2.

Five minutes of shouted instructions (by the Team Leaders) and frantic scrambling around (by the cadets), and Brute squad was out the door, into the chilly San Francisco morning.

Mecablox and Drain, having recovered from the laughing fit induced by the initial condition of his squad, were satisfied that the Team Leaders had managed to at least get everybody presentable. Nobody was wearing proper athletic gear, but then, it was the first morning. Plenty of time for that later.

"Take a good look here, cadets," he said, pointing to a display on the wall. It read 'SNAP Countdown'. Underneath, a timer was slowly ticking away, currently showing 29 days, 4 hours and 23 minutes. "This counter will show you just how far you have to go until the Survival Challenge and the end of SNAP. It is, as you can see, a long way off."

He waited a moment as this sank in.

"Let's go," he said, leading the group into a run.

They started jogging down one of the many roads that led around the Academy, heading away from the towering Khitomer building and out towards the perimeter. It wasn't long before many of the less fit cadets were pouring sweat and gasping for breath. Mecablox and the Team Leaders, by contrast, didn't even seem to be breathing hard. Malespere and Bahred, two of the more fit cadets, found that their biggest challenge was avoiding tripping on Kodene, the squid-like Valvattian, as it flailed it's tentacles around. (Veksai and Baxter, running directly behind Kodene, found it equally challenging to avoid slipping in the slime the squid-like alien left on the pavement.) Drain had dropped to four legs and was running around the Squad, growling and baring his teeth. At least, Mecablox mused, he wasn't barking or chasing squirrels.

After what seemed like an eternity to the less fit (and was in reality about 25 minutes), Mecablox led them back to Fort Pike.

"You have 10 minutes to shower and be in appropriate civilian attire!" he announced loudly, tapping a panel to re-activate the room doors.

"10 minutes?" Kunami objected, "I can't even do my hair in 10 minutes!"

"9 minutes," Mecablox said calmly.

"But-" somebody else objected.

"8 minutes,"

"Ok, shower time!" Nuhvill called out loudly.

There was a mad scramble for towels and soap as the cadets vanished into the male, female and hermaphroditic alien washrooms.

15 minutes later, Gallium was standing in the corridor, wincing as Team Leader Buhras spoke to the gathered squad. Unlike the previous day, she was wearing standard cadet dress: a grey overall with her department colour (mustard yellow, in her case) across the shoulders.

"You had 10 minutes" she said loudly, "You wasted two of them arguing. And you still weren't ready on time! Look at us!" she gestured at the Team Leaders, "We're ready. And we had to get into uniform too!"

"How do you think we should fix this?" Kethnor asked, sounding almost casual.

"Oh, I think this will fix itself," Buhras said, "Since every minute they're late is another minute out of their breakfast time!"

There was some assorted grumblings.

"You don't think that is…what is that word that whining humans like to use…" Vexnar looked towards Gallium, "Fair?"

"Yeah, that's it," Gallium nodded.

"Oh, so you don't think it's fair that if you waste our time, we waste yours?" Vexnar demanded.

"No," Gallium shook his head, "I meant yeah, that's the word whining humans use!"

"Are you implying that humans whine more than other species?" Krethnor growled. Gallium now had all three Team Leaders converging on him.

"I…no?" Gallium squeaked. His blue skin abruptly broke out in sweat.

Up and down the corridor, the other cadets were shifting their weight. If they were already late for breakfast, Gallium was only making them later. Unfortunately, the Bolian boy seemed to be digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole, the Team Leaders twisting each phrase he uttered completely around.

"Everybody down!" Kethnor finally shouted, "We've wasted another 5 minutes…I think 25 push-ups ought to be a fair trade!"

There was more grumbling as most of the Brute Squad cadets dropped to the floor.

"What's a push-up?" Kumari ask curiously, twirling a lock of hair around one finger.

Several minutes later, the group had marched over to the Lower-Classmen Dining Hall. The building was much the way they remembered it: a stone building with fancy windows, oak tables and framed images of famous starships. However, where there had been a line of replicators, there was now a lunch line, with half a dozen identical men dishing food out to waiting cadets. Kumari winced as one man slopped a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto one plate with a loud PLOP! Her mother would never have permitted any of the house servants to handle food in such a way!

She would have said as much, but their instructions were clear: They were not to speak, they were not to look around and they were to keep their arms, tentacles or other grasping appendages at their sides. Only once they all arrived at their table and were given the Team Leaders' permission could they sit, eat and speak.

After much confusion (most 24-th Century students had never tried navigating a cafeteria line before), they were finally gathered around a table that had a small Brute-Squad place-card. Several of the standard chairs had been replaced with custom units, designed to accommodate Kodene, M'Kr'gr and the other aliens in the group.

"OK," Buhras said, making a show of looking at her chrono, "You have about…8 minutes to eat. Enjoy!"

She left, joining the rest of the Brute Squad SNAP staff at a nearby table.

"What is with those creepy little men?" Kumari demanded, her gaze alternating between the food on her plate and the dining hall workers.

"Holograms," Veksai said, "They look like old Mark 1 EMHs3."

"Whatever they are, they can't cook worth a damn," Nuhvill said, a sour look on his face as he chewed on his eggs.

With the chaos of the morning at a temporary lull, Malespere had the chance to look more closely at some of the new arrivals. Kodene was using three of its many tentacles to shovel food into its gaping, tooth-line mouth-slit. The large alien hadn't said anything yet and hadn't made any kind of overt moves towards anybody, but Malespere noticed that both Gallium and Bahred kept sneaking nervous glances at the alien. (He couldn't blame them, he was doing the same thing after all.) Nuhvill was an average looking human; brown hair, stocky build, no real distinguishing features. Bizkit had to be the smallest girl Malespere had ever seen, and her orange skin was throwing him off just a bit. Her long, greenish hair was pulled back in a pony-tail. She probably would have been quite pretty, had she been human. Further down the table, another alien girl looked almost…cat-like? She wasn't furred, but she did have tiny canines, slightly pointed ears and a lithe build that somehow seemed feline. There was something very attractive about her, alien looks none-withstanding. Zenith was another average-looking human. He was taller than Nuhvill, with lighter hair and an air that seemed slightly…arrogant? He had also been a good five minutes longer than everybody else at getting his breakfast, and was eating quite a bit more slowly. Fastocheni, by contrast, was bolting down his breakfast. A tall, skinny dark-haired human of Italian background, he gave Malespere an easy grin before diving back into his food.

Fastocheni wasn't the only member of the squad that had noticed Malespere's gaze. In fact, they were all glancing around the table in between bites of the rather bland breakfast. Most had a sort of open curiosity on their faces. Veksai, on the other hand, had a strange, calculating look in his eyes. Noticing Malespere's gaze, his expression hardened, becoming strangely…defiant? Defensive? Malespere wasn't sure, but he again came to the conclusion that he didn't really like Veksai. Val'gural, the furry Barudan, was eating some sort of strange, blue breakfast meat and shedding tufts of red fur. Next to him, M'Kr'gr didn't seem to notice as he shovelled some kind of bloody meat into his mouth. Baxter was turning slightly green as he watched M'Kr'gr eat, but his own hunger finally got the best of him and he resumed eating.

This time, when it came time to meet their staff outside, they were only 4 minutes late.

Their first stop after breakfast was the Academy Replicator Center4. A rather drab building near the Academy perimeter, it consisted of a large waiting room, several shopping consoles and of course several rooms containing replicators of various sizes and purposes.

"As you may or may not expect," Mecablox explained, "You will need a variety of clothing and equipment during your stay here. Many of the items you will be receiving are identical to those currently used by active officers. Other items, such as the maroon dress uniforms you saw yesterday, are only used at the Academy."

"Are we getting guns?" Baxter asked excitedly.

"Yes," Mecablox nodded.

"Who-hoo!" Baxter made a fist and started pumping his arm.

"You will, however, be expected to clean them, perform basic maintenance, and of course keep them secure at all times," Mecablox went on.

"Crud," Veksai grunted.

"We're getting guns! We're getting guns!" Baxter chanted, apparently not caring about the extra work.

"And they are training weapons, capable of causing a minor stinging sensation, nothing more," Mecablox concluded.

Baxter stopped his celebratory chanting.

"Oh," he said.

One by one, the Brute Squad cadets stepped into the clothing scanner, which recorded their exact bodily dimensions, species and expected rate of growth. With a loud hum, the industrial replicator in the next room would come to life, depositing a small mountain of clothing items, school supplies and unidentifiable bits of equipment, each labelled with their names and service numbers. The lucky (unlucky?) recipient would then rush to pack everything into the duffle bags provided (after digging through the pile to find said duffle bags) and scramble to get out of the way before the next person's kit materialized. Of course, the Team Leaders were there to shout out supporting suggestions like 'What are you, stupid? Pack the heavy stuff at the bottom' and 'Hurry the hell up, we don't have all day!'.

In a second waiting room, weighted down by several heavy bags, Gallium looked over at Bizkit. The small girl had all but disappeared beneath her kit.

"Do you need a hand with that?" he asked.

"I can handle it," she replied curtly, "Do you need a hand?"

"What? Why would I need a hand?" Gallium asked, "I'm doing OK,"

"Well so am I, but you asked me anyway!" Bizkit shot back.

"Well, I just thought…you know…" Gallium trailed off.

Bizkit gave him a look.

"You're just so…tiny…" he finished.

On a seat nearby, Veksai choked back a chuckle.

"Oh, you think I'm tiny?" Bizkit demanded, turning awkwardly to face Gallium and nearly hitting Veksai in the head with a bag, "Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm just the right height, and you humans are just too big?"

"What species are you, by the way? Veksai asked.

"Nicondii5. Do you have a problem with that?"

"What's a Nicondii?" Gallium asked.

"I am. You got a problem with that?" Bizkit repeated.

"Well…no…I don't think so…"

"If you're going to be in Starfleet, you need to become more comfortable with other races and cultures," the delicate, feloid-looking alien spoke up. It was the first time either of them had heard her say anything. He voice was husky, throaty, and more than a bit sexy.

"I'm comfortable with other races!" Gallium objected, "My Dad's an Admiral! We used to have Vulcans and Rigellians and stuff over all the time,"

"Then why are you staring at me like some kind of half-minded yokel?" Bizkit demanded.

"Maybe he's got the hots for you," Veksai chuckled.

"Or maybe he's never seen such concentrated bitch before," the feloid alien said cattily. (How fitting, huh?)

Bizkit merely glared at her.

"What's your name, anyway?" Veksai asked.

"Ouatordelinariman," the alien said, "But you can call me Quarterman,"

"Why?" Veksai asked curiously, "That's sort of a strange nickname,"

"I'm a Hermat6," Quarterman said, giving Veksai a suggesting wink. Veksai immediately broke into loud guffaws while Gallium and Bizkit looked on, uncomprehending.

"What?" Gallium asked.

"Ask again when you're older," Veksai said. He turned away, ceasing to pay attention to Gallium's repeated questions.

They were interrupted as M'Kr'gr and Bahred stomped into the room, banging their duffle bags against the wall.

Once everybody had finished, they found themselves formed up on a small, grassy field outside the Replicator Center. In front of them, Team Leader Buhras was looking at her chrono7 and frowning.

"Let me guess," Nuhvel muttered, "We're late,"

"You're all late!" Buhras snapped, tapping her watch then dropping her arm, "Does anybody know why?"

"The scanner was too slow?" Malespere ventured.

"We didn't move fast enough?" Bahred asked.

"No," Kethnor walked in front of them, pulling out a small holo-generator8, "It is because you did not work as a team!"

He activated the generator, which produced an image in the air in front of them. It looked like footage from the security camera. They could see themselves walking into the scanner, picking up their piles of kit and then carrying them into the waiting room, where they sat and gabbed amongst themselves.

"Did it not occur to any of you, that it would be quicker and easier for all if you had, perhaps, HELPED EACH OTHER?" Kethnor snarled.

"Oops," Igor said, chuckling.

"You think this is amusing?" Vexnar asked, flexing his antennae, "You think failing to work as a team is funny?"

"Well, no, but-"

"PUSH-UP POSITION!"

With a groan, the Squad dropped to the ground. Kumari, having at least learned how to do a push-up, only managed two before falling back to the ground.

A few minutes later, with everybody back on their feet, Buhras stepped back in front of the group, a big grin on her face.

"Don't worry," she said happily, "I know how we can fix this! Everybody empty out your bags!"

The cadets exchanged looks.

"You heard me! Dump them out! Spread them around! You like things messy? Let's make a nice, big mess!"

Uneasily, they upturned the duffle bags and knapsacks they'd been issued, dumping shirts, pants, tunics, shoes, tricorders, padds, survival gear and all their assorted equipment on the ground. The Team Leaders moved through the group, grabbing random items and tossing them around. Before long, the field looked like a supply ship had exploded.

"Good," Buhras said. She looked at her chrono, "You now have five minutes to get everything packed back up.

Brute Squad gaped at her, jaws dropping.

"Four minutes and 40 seconds," she said sweetly.

It was still the first day, heck, it was still the first morning, but the cadets were starting to get the picture. With only a moment's hesitation this time, they immediate started racing around the field, rummaging through piles of stuff, searching frantically for items with their name on the label, then rushing back to their spot in rank to stuff the item into their packs. Kumari nimbly dodged to the side as M'Kr'gr came crashing through, shredding an off-duty shirt with one foot claw. Nuhvel brushed a tuft of red fur away from his face as he dug through a pile of stuff next to Val'gural. Zenith was slowly moving from pile to pile, giving each a sort of half-hearted poke.

It seemed like only a few seconds before Buhras was shouting again.

"Time's up!" she said gleefully.

Everybody froze. Only Malespere had actually managed to locate all his kit. Kodene had most of his items, but was having difficulty packing them, as the plastic-wrapped items kept popping out of his tentacled grasp. Bizkit was berating M'Kr'gr for shredding her shirt and Veksai and Nuhvill had again managed to literally butt heads, fresh goose-eggs forming on their foreheads.

"Dump them out again!" Buhras said cheerfully, earning some very dirty looks from the cadets, "I'm not going to tell you twice!"

With groans of resignation, tightened lips or grunts of anger, they complied. As Buhras continued speaking, Vexnar and Kethnor again moved through the group, grabbing handfuls of kit and tossing it in all directions.

"We told you to work as a team!" Buhras said, "And did you? DID YOU?"

"Apparently not," Quarterman said.

"Correct. You are still working as individuals!" Now Burhas was snapping, the cheerful 'Isn't this fun?' grin gone, "What if you were on a ship that was under attack? Do you think you'd win if you were all off in your own little worlds?"

Nobody answered.

"Maybe what you need is a bit more…guidance," Burhas said, looking thoughtful. "Yes. Mr. Gallium?"

"Huh? What?" Gallium started, standing ram-rod straight.

"You're in charge," Burhas said, tossing him an extra chrono, "You have five minutes to get everybody packed away.  
"WHAT?" Gallium squeaked.

"Four minutes and forty seconds…"

Five minutes later, they were again dumping out their kit.

"Can anybody tell me what went wrong THAT time?" Buhras was asking.

"I told everybody to pack their stuff, Gallium said, "I told them when time was about to run out. We were trying!"

"You were trying…as individuals. WORK AS A TEAM!"

She looked at her chrono again.

"You have five minutes,"

This time, they leapt immediately into action. Most of the cadets again started rooting through piles of equipment. Malespere and M'Kr'gr, however, ran right at Gallium.

"Look, man," Malespere said, "We gotta do this differently! Get a few people to run around finding stuff, a few more to sort the piles, then a few more to start packing stuff up!"

"It does not matter who's kit you are packing," M'Kr'gr added, "That is were we are going wrong…we are only packing our own possessions,"

"Right, right," Gallium gulped.

The three of them quickly started detailing different cadets to different tasks. Quaterman, Bizkit and Bahred, all being fast runners, were sent to gather in the scattered kit. Kodene, with its many tentacles, along with Veksai and Kumari started sorting kit, tossing it into separate piles, while several other cadets started stuffing items into bags.

"Thirty seconds!" Gallium called out, looking at the chrono.

Everybody was running around frantically. Fastocheni had joined the runners and was now tossing plastic-wrapped clothing items to Kodene and Veksai, who called out the names on the items, then tossed them in the appropriate directions.

"Ten seconds!"

There were still items scattered on the ground.

Burhas looked at her chrono, then at the scrambling cadets. They stared back, giving her a 'deer in headlights' look.

"You have two more minutes," she said flatly.

The rest of the morning was spent unpacking.

A place for everything, and everything in its place. It seemed to Bahred that they'd each been given enough equipment for a small army…and every item had a particular place in their room. The maroon formal tunic with its white turtleneck had to be hung between the field jacket at the white dress uniform…the undershirts worn underneath their duty coveralls had to be folded exactly 10 by 15 centimetres and stacked in a certain drawer in their quarters. Every sock, every boot, every padd and stylus had it's place, and it took nearly an hour and a half for the squad, led by Gallium, as the Squad Senior and Malespere, M'Kr'gr and Veksai, as the Team Seniors, to get everything in place.

Of course, it then took another half hour to fix everything they'd done wrong, under the 'guidance' of Buhras, Kethnor and Vexnar. By the time lunch finally rolled around, most of the cadets were looking at their Team Leaders with looks that ranged from 'annoyed' to 'zealous hatred'. Of course, M'Kr'gr's fangs, blood-red eyes, knarled forehead and scaled green flesh meant that he always looked like he was bordering on zealous hatred, but hey, you get the picture.

As the cadets filed back into the dining hall, arms at their sides and eyes facing straight forward, several started to wonder just what it is they'd gotten themselves into.

With only 8 minutes to eat lunch, there was little time for conversation beyond 'That sucked!' and 'What the hell?'. Then they were formed up in front of the dining hall and marched off towards the Leonard H. McCoy Medical Center.

It was here that another interesting (and annoying) little Academy tradition rose up to bite them in the ass.

As they marched down one of the tree-lined roads leading around the Academy, they couldn't help but notice that several other cadets were riding slidewalks9 between the various buildings. As they marched down the street, Team Leader Vexnar noticed an Andorian cadet walking calmly along the slidewalk as it carried him next to the street. An insignia on the planet patch on his shoulder marked him as a mid-classmen. Of course, none of the Brute Squad cadets had any idea what these insignia meant yet.

"Eyes right, everybody," Vexnar snapped, "This is mid-classman Jikut, a warrior of the 8th Hive of Andor! From this point forward, you will hail him whenever you see him!"

"Yes, Team Lea-" Gallium started to say.

"DON'T TALK IN RANK!" Buhras snapped, cutting him off.

"Eyes forward," Vexnar hissed.

They resumed marching, watching as Jikut moved further away on the slidewalk.

"Well? Isn't anybody going hail him?" Kethnor asked expectantly.

"How do we-" Veskai started.

"DON'T TALK IN RANK!" Buhras screamed.

"It's easy," Kethnor said, a dark grin on his face, "One of you simply calls out 'Hail, mid-classman Jikut'. The rest then reply with 'Greetings, mid-classman Jikut'.

"But," Bahred objected, "She just said we couldn't-"

"DON"T TALK IN RANK!" Buhras screamed again.

The cadets, understandably confused, exchanged glances.

"He's almost out of earshot," Kethnor said, a hint of threat entering his voice.

Oen cadet, a plump Tellarite10 named Derok, starting shouting:

"Hail, mid-classman Jikut!"

Uneasily, the rest of the squad answered 'Greetings, mid-classman Jikut!'

Malespere's eyes darted over to where Buhras was walking next to the squad, but she was silent.

Evidently, they'd done something right, as Jikut turned around and shouted:

"Greetings, lower-classmen!"

They quickly found that this activity wasn't limited to cadets who were buddies of their SNAP staff. Each time they passed another squad of lower-classmen with their respective SNAP staff members, Vexnar would introduce them and the squad would obligingly hail them. The other squads, in turn, likewise hailed the Brute Squad cadets. Veksai thought it was sort of cute, up until he realized that the staff was only introducing each squad and/or person once, and expecting the cadets to remember them every time they crossed their paths. (This led to a particularly embarrassing encounter later that week with a senior-classman named Rektam that earned them 50 push-ups.)

Finally, they arrived at the medical center where they were subjected to tests, scans, body fluid samples and the sharp sarcasm of a swarm of EMH Mark-1s.

"Didn't I see you in the lunch room earlier today?" Gallium asked one of the holograms, trying to be friendly.

"No, I don't think so," the EMH replied, sounding bored, "I was in the back kitchen making salads. Now turn your head and cough!"

"I hope you wash your hands before you go back to the kitchen!" Veksai could be heard to say from the next curtained partition over.

"Don't be absurd," another EMH said, "The force-fields that comprise our bodies cannot carry bacteria, germs or any contaminants into your food,"

"Yes," a third identical EMH added, pressing a hypospray11 against Quarterman's arm, "We have to add that stuff ourselves,"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to spit in somebody's food when you have no saliva glands?" a fourth asked. The EMH pressed a hypo against M'Kr'gr's arm, then frowned in annoyance as it failed to penetrate the alien's scales.

"That's funny," Gallium laughed uneasily.

"We're not programmed to be funny," all the EMHs responded in unison.

"So, uh, what are you guys doing here if you work in the lunch room, anyway?" Gallium asked.

"Do think the flesh-and-blood doctors want to spend a week examining new cadets when they could simply have us do it?" an EMH replied, shaking his head with contempt.

Veksai winced as his EMH started poking at his stomach.

"Hybrid physiology is always so interesting," the EMH remarked, "How on Earth did your spleen end up all the way over here? Which of your parents was Orion?"

"Are you sexually active?" an EMH was asking Bahred.

"C'mon, man!" Bahred said, blushing as he looked nervously from side to side, "There's, like, other people around!"

There was an enraged roar as, having failed with the hypo, M'Kr'gr's EMH jabbed him with an old-fashioned hypodermic needle. A few partitions down, Kodene was frantically flailing it's tentacles as the EMH attempted to probe a particularly sensitive sensory node. An egg-nodule, resembling a cluster of grapes, flew out of the partition and hit the wall with a SPLAT!

"H-hey!" Bahred said nervously, "What are you doing with that Q-Tip?"

Outside, in the waiting area, Vexnar and Kethnor grinned darkly as an ear-splitting scream ripped through the air.

"You two are so cruel," Buhras giggled.

"It is not our fault if the EMHs believe there has been an outbreak of Vulcan Gonorrhoea," Vexnar said innocently.

Another scream, this one sounding vaguely like Malespere, sounded from the examination room.

"Funny, I thought they could test for that stuff with a simple tricorder scan," Burhas mused.

"That's the trouble with holograms," Vexnar said as another scream, this one sounding a lot like Veksai, sounded, "They can be made to forget things so easily!"

Supper, another run around the campus (this time with Kethnor leading the squad in Klingon calesthetics) and the Brute Squad cadets were finally given a slight, slight bit of freedom from their SNAP staff.

Nuhvel was sitting on his bed, polishing a pair of boots while Veksai attempted to iron one of his uniform jumpsuits.

"Did somebody forget to tell Starfleet that nobody in the real world has had to iron clothing for about 200 years?" Veksai seethed.

"Or polish boots," Nuhvel added.

"Or dust!" Derok, the boisterous Tellarite called from across the hall. His pig-like snout was wrinkled as he attempted to chase down dust-bunnies being pushed around by an errant breeze.

"I'M HEARING TALKING!" Kethnor shouted from his room down the hall, "I SHOULD BE HEARING ONLY CRIES OF PAIN AND PATHETIC WHIMPERING! NO TALKING!"

A snarl on his face, Veksai resumed his ironing.

The following day was more of the same. They were given briefings on Starfleet policy, briefings on Starfleet culture, a tour of the Athletic Center, the Spock Library, a multi-species briefing on sexual harassment and health, including information on which species were sexually compatible. (Derok was thrilled to hear that Tellarites were sexually compatible with most species. Veksai didn't have the heart to tell him that most species found Tellarites far, far too ugly for sex.)

Hovering over them, at all times, was Team Leader Buhras, Team Leader Vexnar and the rest of their SNAP staff. They were marched to and from briefings by at least one member of their staff. Every morning at least two staff members led the morning workout, with another screaming at the cadets that they weren't showering or dressing quickly enough. They were marched to meals by their staff and finally, at the end of the day, they were marched back to Fort Pike, where their staff would plan their evenings to the last minute, depending on just how many times they'd screwed up during the day.

For example, each staff member had used marking tape to section off a small piece of floor next to their room doors, an area in which cadets were forbidden to step. After about the fourth time somebody stepped in Buhras' space, she responded by running a line of tape down the center of the hallway and declaring it their 'highway'. Cadets were forbidden from crossing the line and could only walk in one direction, which meant that if Malespere wanted to use the bathroom, just one door to the left of his room, he had to walk all the way to the far end of the Brute Squad hallway, around the end of the 'highway', all the way to the opposite end of the hallway, then back to the washroom. (This led to much confusion and several collisions before everybody got the hang of things.)

On the other hand, they also learned that aside from doing things to make lower-years miserable, the Academy also had several students who absolutely loved pulling pranks. The first of which was evident the third morning, when, upon marching past, the cadets noticed that the large gold and silver Starfleet insignia that dominated the front entrance of Khitomer Building had been painted blue and white. (They were later informed that those were the colours of the Andorian Sector, who where therefore the most probable suspects.)

The third evening, they were informed that their first inspection would be taking place the following morning.

"We've shown you how to iron, how to polish and how to make your beds!" Buhras declared, walking up and down the hall (ignoring the highway). The Brute Squad cadets were all standing next to their doors, "You know how to dust! You know the standard, where everything belongs! When we inspect you tomorrow, everything had – better – be – PERFECT!" She pulled an isolinear chip out of her pocket and stood next to a display panel on the hallway wall.

"This chip," she declared, "Activates the viewscreens in your rooms!" she slid it into one of the many slots. Immediately, on the desks in each room, the computer displays that up until now had been powerless flashed to life. She removed it, and they all went dead again.

"If tomorrow's inspection goes well," Buhras continued, "You will get an hour of viewscreen time tomorrow evening. You will be able to communicate with your friends and family. You can check the news, see what is happening in the galaxy! If not, well…"

"There will be consequences," Kethnor said calmly, yet with a toothy smile.

"Get to work!" Buhras declared.

Burhas and Kethnor joined Mecablox and Vexnar in the Fort Pike security room.

"That was a nice touch, with the display screens," Mecablox said.

"It does seem to have done the trick!" Buhras said, sitting down in front of the bank of security monitors and checking her reflection, making sure her hair was just SO. On the screens, Brute Squad cadets were running madly up and down the hall, tripping over each other to avoid crossing the 'highway'. The security cameras didn't show the interiors of the rooms, but through the doorways they could see clothing items being franticly re-arranged, ironing boards being swapped like movie disks and garbage receptacles being frantically emptied into the matter reclamation unit. Several cadets were lined up at the laundry alcove, waiting impatiently as the auto-wash unit ran its 10-minute cleaning and drying cycle12.

"How are they doing?" Vexnar hissed, "Are any worthy of my blade yet? I have not done an execution in months! Not since my last family visit to Andor!"

"You can't kill anybody on Earth!" Mecablox reminded him calmly for about the 50th time, "This isn't Andor, this isn't your family Hive, and we do not fight to the death after the dessert course!"

"Perhaps if we did, we would not have such weaklings surviving long enough to enter the Academy," Vexnar grunted.

"I think it's time to go mix things up a bit for them," Buhras said, a thoughtful look in her eye.

"Does anybody remember which shelf the phaser cleaning kit goes in?"

"I can't find my dress boots! I just had them 10 minutes ago!"

"Are we supposed to put the textbook padds on the desk shelf, or in the drawer?"

"How many pairs of underwear was I supposed to get?"

"I dunno, my species doesn't wear underwear!"

"What? Ewww!"

"It's a species thing! Look at Kodene, do you think squid wear underwear?"

"You're not a squid!"

The Brute Squad cadets were frantically pulling all of their newly issued kit out of the drawers, shelves and cubby's they'd been carefully placed into the day before. As it turned out, they didn't know their room standard as well as they thought they had. (Unknown to them, Vexnar had snuck into their corridor during the day and replaced the old fashioned paper chart, illustrating exactly where everything was supposed to go, with a new, slightly different one. In addition, the more you rush, the more likely you are to make mistakes. And Brute Squad was rushing like the proverbial fat kid towards the Smartie.

Veksai was running at full speed down the hall, cursing the SNAP staff for making him run all the way down the stupid 'highway' just to read a frickin' sign on the wall.

"No, the water purification tablets are supposed to in the third drawer!" he called back to Nuhvel, "Not the field pack!"

"What about the sports socks?" Nuhvel called back.

"They're not on the chart!" Bizkit called from her room before Veksai could answer, "I already checked!"

"WHAT?" Kumari shrieked, poking her head out of her room, "WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO PUT THEM! OHHH, IF I WERE AT HOME, MY SERVENTS WOULD BE DOING THIS FOR ME!"

"Yo, chill!" Malespere said, "We'll just stash them in our personal boxes!"

"We get personal boxes?" Baxter called.

"Yeah, right next to the bed!"

"Has anybody figured out what goes in this weird shelf above the bed?"

"I know what I usually keep next to my bed," Quarterman said, a sneaky look on hir face, "But they said I wasn't allowed to bring a dil-"

"STOP!" Kumari snapped, holding up one hand, "That kind of talk is NOT PROPER!"

"What, are you Catholic or something?" Quarterman asked.

"I am a PRINCESS!"

"Well, maybe you wouldn't be so uptight if you had something to loosen yourself up with once in a while!" Quarterman snapped.

There was a collective groan of disgust from the cadets. It was interrupted when mid-classman Buhras strode through the doors leading to the Brute Squad hallway.

"EVERYBODY NEXT TO YOUR DOORS!" she cried out loudly.

There was a scramble as everybody complied. Buhras walked calmly up and down the hallway for a moment.

"The staff and I have noticed," she snapped, "That even though you've been here for three days, you're still not working as a team. You're working like a gaggle of INDIVIDUALS!" Veksai winced as her voice rose, "YOU NEED TO WORK TOGETHER! THIS BEHAVIOR IS TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE!"

Some of the cadets started exchanging glances. What they hell was she talking about? Hadn't they followed their instructions? Weren't they doing everything the SNAP staff had told them to do?

Evidently not.

"Push-up position!" Buhras called out. With a barely restrained groan, the cadets dropped down, holding themselves in the 'up' part of the push up. Burhas, having also assumed the position, waited until their arms were starting to quiver before she continued.

"I will be making some changes to your room standard," Buhras finally said, "And, if things don't improve tomorrow, we'll just have to take a few extra steps to straighten you out. Recover!"

Everybody jumped back up to their feet. Buhras attached a list of changes to the wall next to the room chart, then left.

There was an immediate scramble for the chart.

"The phaser goes on the LEFT side of the closet now?" Bizkit whined.

"Why the hell did they move the maroon jacket beside the overcoat?"

"I don't think I got a second pair of shoes-"

"I don't even know what a flux modulator is, never mind why it's supposed to go next to my desk!"

Veksai looked around. The smart thing for them to do, he realized, would be for somebody to take charge and put some kind of order into things. Hadn't somebody been declared Squad Senior earlier that day? Hopefully they would do something. The last thing he needed was for the SNAP staff to get even bitchier.

Of course, it had occurred to Veksai that he could always take charge himself. He quickly rejected the idea. He had no authority over anybody here…it wasn't like one of his classrooms, where the company had put him in charge. Here, he was just another cadet, another drone, doing exactly what he was told to do. Besides, he already had practice with the whole leadership thing, not all the other cadets could say the same. Better to let them start learning. (The thought that this was a pretty arrogant thing to think had likewise occurred to him…but his desire to stay off the sensor display was far too strong to resist.)

The point became moot anyway when Kodene, the days Squad Senior, blocked the list with two tentacles, using the rest to hold back the Squad.

"Back to your rooms," it said slowly, "Derok, Igor and Malespere, you are now Team Seniors. You will copy this list, and pass it on to your teams. Anybody else who has issues, you will go to your team seniors, who will figure it out,"

It was the most words than Veksai could recall having heard the squid-alien say at a time. But, since it got him off the hook, he didn't really care.

The next morning, the cadets were once again woken early to the screams of the Klingon opera and taken out for a run. Vexnar was leading the run that morning, which meant running through what felt like every thorn bush and poison ivy patch on campus. There were given ten minutes to shower and dress, then another 10 to finish preparing their rooms for inspection. (Kodene spent most of that time trying to re-moisten its slimy hide.)

All the cadets were standing at attention next to their doorways. They'd spent the remainder of the previous night dusting, mopping, sweeping and doing other silly household tasks that cleaning robots had been taking care of for the past two hundred years. (Derok had asked Kethnor why exactly they were expected to do this stuff by hand. The diminutive Klingon had simply replied 'It is tradition.') They'd been ironing uniform parts, polishing boots, and trying to figure out just how exactly the stupid room standard was supposed to work.

Each Team Leader was standing in the portion of the hallway assigned to their teams. At 0700 hours sharp, the doors to their corridor opened and Squad Leader Mecablox walked in, dressed in a grey jumpsuit with yellow shoulders13. Deputy Leader Drain was right behind him, teeth bared. The three Team Leaders immediately came to attention. Mecablox nodded at Kethnor, the Team 1 leader, and the two of them proceeded in the first room: Derok and Guthar.

"WHAT IS THIS?" Kethnor shouted. Derok jumped as the Klingon's arm thrust out the door of the room, a uniform jumpsuit clutched in one hand, "YOU CALL THIS IRONING!" The uniform was flung unceremoniously against the far wall.

"There's dust in here," Mecablox said calmly, "Be sure to get all the trim, and the doorframe," Drain simply growled.

"THESE BOOTS ARE UNACCEPTABL! I HAVE SEEN LATRINES WITH A BETTER SHINE!" Kethnor snarled. A pair of dress shoes (Guthar's) joined the uniform on the floor across the hall.

"Dry out your sink," Mecablox said.

"YOU CALL THIS MAKING YOUR BED?" Kethnor shouted.

And so it went on. Each room had its flaws. Veksai had his boots arranged in the wrong order, Nuhvill's bed was unacceptable. Kumari's hair wasn't properly done, Baxter had his uniform jumpsuit on backwards. Finally, after what felt like forever, Squad Leader Mecablox departed, leaving them with the Team Leaders.

The three of them stood in the center of the hall, looking at all the items that had been tossed around. Vexnar gave a hiss of disgust, his hand resting on the hilt of the ceremonial dagger he wore. Kethor, snarling softly, started pacing the hall and glaring at each cadet he passed. (Gallium cringed each time either of them passed.)

"This," Buhras said softly, "Is unacceptable! You had all of last night to prepare for this inspection! This was your chance to show us what you could do!"

She was walking slowly up and down the corridor now, her voice growing louder.

"We went easy on you! We gave you the chance to show us that you could learn this stuff easily!" she was practically screaming now, "We tried to show you that if you make things easy for us, we can make things easy for you! WELL IT DIDN'T WORK! YOU HAD THE NICE GIRL, NOW YOU'RE GOING TO GET THE BITCH!"

She glared around one more time.

"Form up outside for breakfast."

The group hesitated, looking down at their scattered positions.

"You have thirty seconds," Vexnar hissed, "And, by the Hive Mother, you better start moving fast. Or this is going to be a very long and painful SNAP."

Veksai started reaching for a sock that had been tossed out of his room.

"DID I F**KING SAY TO MOVE?" Buhras snarled, jumping towards him. Veksai jerked his hand back.

Buhras gave another sharp look around.

"MOVE IT!"

They jumped into action.

Next: SNAP is in full swing, and Brute Squad is already feeling the pain. But what they haven't realized is that a new challenge is coming up on the horizon: Classes! Can they manage this extra burden, or will people start to, um, snap? Find out in Star Traks: Crash Course, 1.3 – 'Jump Start'!

1 Barudans – A relatively new Federation race, the Baruda are about 7 feet tall and covered in red fur. Most are quite frightened of humanoid beings, for the simple matter that they find heads terrifying. The Baruda themselves don't have heads, their eyes and mouth being located in the center of their chests. Think of the Tennis-Shoe Monster from Bugs Bunny, and you'll know what I mean.

2 Mugato – I'm not sure. I think it's some kind of poisonous, white ape.

3 EMH Mark 1 – Emergency Medical Hologram. The EMH is a fully interactive hologram, designed to supplement a starship's medical team. The Mark 1 EMH was largely a failure, due to its poor bedside manner. However, they have been found useful in a number of occupations that are too hazardous or tedious for living beings. Asteroid mining and lunch room staff are only two of these. Trek fans will recognize the EMH from Star Trek: Voyager. Voyager's EMH, known as 'The Doctor', was a major character.

4 Replicator Center – Sort of like a supply house. Replicator centers have a variety of replicators, capable of creating clothing, furniture, equipment or almost any other item you might need. Most also have holographic emitters or view-screens to allow users to browse through the replicator database in search of the items they desire.

5 Nicondii – A highly skilled and industrious people, the Nicondii are characterized by their short stature, orange skin and tendancy to work in 'sibling groups'. Multiple births of 5 or 6 children are the norm for Nicondii, and most sibling groups remain together for the majority of their lives, even going into the same profession.

6 Hermat – A creation of celebrated Trek author Peter David, the Hermat are a hermaphroditic species. That is, their anatomy includes male and female characteristics including breasts and both male and female genitlia. All Hermats are fully fertile and can act as mother or father, depending on…well, OK, I have no idea how they decide that part, but you get my meaning. Hermats have their own unique set of pronouns: hir for 'his', 'hers', 'him' or 'her' and s/he (pronounced 'sha-he') for 'he' or 'she'.

7 Chrono – A futuristic watch. Although honestly, a watch is a watch. It tells time. Do you really think watches are going to change much in the next 400 years, cuz I sure don't…

8 Holo-generator - It generates a hologram. Handy for public demonstrations.

9 Slidewalks – A sort of a cross between a sidewalk and a highway. Slidewalks consist of several 'lanes', each of which is cable of moving a person at a different spead. As one moves from the slidewalk next to the street to the one furthest, one finds oneself moving considerably faster…like express and collector lanes. A handy method of public transit. Unless it rains a lot…

10 Tellarites – One of the founding races of the Federation, Tellarites are short, round, furred and have pig-like snouts. They're pretty ugly, very loud and very outgoing. Home planet is Tellar.

11 Hypospray – Used for injecting drugs, hyposprays penetrate the skin with intense, high-pressure jets of drug, as opposed to needles.

12 Autowash – This is a laugh. During basic training, I would have killed for a machine that only took 10 minutes to do laundry. I'm not kidding.

13 Colour – Starfleet uniforms have three colours denoting different career paths. Blue indicates sciences and medical, mustard yellow indicates engineering and operations, red indicates command track. Why that is, I don't know, since the whole point of becoming an officer is to get into a position of command. But hey, whatever. Maybe it's like a certain military college, where you have the engineers, the scientists, and the people that aren't smart enough to be engineers or scientists…also known as 'artsmen'. If I die in the next week, it was probably the artsmen that killed me…


	3. Year 1 - First Lap

Star Trek is the property of Paramount, and was created by Gene Roddenberry.

Star Traks is the property and creation of Alan Decker. The number of Star Traks spin-offs is growing rapidly, so if I try to list them all here, the disclaimer will be longer than the actual story.

Star Traks: Crash Course is my demented creation.

The events and characters depicted in this story are completely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is intended as humorous flattery. However, if there isn't a character that resembles you, try not to take it personally. Or maybe you should. Maybe I just don't like you. (But that's probably not the case.)

(But maybe it is.)

Copyright 2008

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

1.3 – "First Lap"

Cadet Lower-Classman Dylan Baxter was being chased by the devil.

The strange thing was, the devil was wearing a cadet mid-classman's uniform. The devil was also a she, with Bajoran ridges across her nose, curly, dark hair and a curved pair of horns protruding from her forehead.

"YOU'RE LATE, BAXTER!" she screamed, "YOU'RE LATE, YOU'RE LATE, FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE!"

"I don't date chicks who can hurt me!" Baxter cried, turning to run. The road he was on was paved with padds, each one displaying a big, red 'FAIL!' icon on its screen.

"YOU'RE LATE!" the Buhras-Devil shrieked, "PUSHUPS! PUSHUPS!"

Baxter found himself chained to the ground by his wrists, doing pushups as Buhras sat on his back, holding a whip in one hand as she shouted "LOWER! LOWER!" The stench of filth filled his nostrils as his face was ground into the dirt.

"IT'S TIME, DYLER BAXTER!" she shouted, "IT'S TIME TO HAVE A GOOD MORNING! GOOD MORNING!"

A what?

Baxter shot up in his bunk, nearly hitting his head on his roommate Igor's bunk. The dream was dissipating rapidly, though the stench of filth wasn't. It didn't take long for Baxter to find the source; Igor's large, smelly feet were dangling over the side of the bunk right into his face. Outside his small room in Fort Pike, loud music was playing.

Good morning, Good morning!

We've talked the whole night through!

Good morning, good morning, to you!

Good morning, good morning!

It's great to stay up late!

Good morning, good morning, to you!

"That's not the Klingon thing," Igor said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he moved quickly to the sink to start shaving.

"Wha?" Baxter said dumbly.

"They're, like, playing different music," Igor insisted.

"Dude, your feet stink," Baxter said, his brain still moving the speed of frozen molasses.

Dylan Baxter wasn't exactly a morning person.

"They have got to be kidding," Veksai groaned as he dragged himself out of bed, "It's frickin' Sunday, for crying out loud!"

"Whatamafuha?" Nuhvel groaned from under his grey, standard-issue blanket.

"Out of bed, lazy humans!" Kethnor's calm but firm voice came from the corridor, "We have let you sleep in an entire hour, now it is time for breakfast!"

"Ohhh, I really want to hurt somebody right now," Veksai fumed as Nuhvel dragged himself to the sink to brush his teeth.

As their first week of SNAP had drawn to a close, and as the SNAP Countdown display counted down the days remaining, the Brute Squad cadets had learned another unfortunate truth: SNAP didn't take the weekend off. They'd been woken at the same early hour Saturday1 morning, taken to breakfast, and informed that it was an Academy-wide sports day. (They'd also noticed that some ambitious pranksters had moved the Cochran Memorial onto the roof of the Bimm Planetarium.) It had been a nice change from their regular SNAP routine, but they'd still been kept segregated from most of the senior students, been marched to and from meals by their SNAP staff and, in general, treated like a pack of lowly SNAP cadets. The only difference had been the junior-classmen, who had prompted them into acts of mischief against the other Sectors. They'd been given a few Antares Sector 'mascots' to safeguard, including a stuffed targ, a street sign that read 'Antares Avenue' and a flag with the Antares star system stitched on. With the prompting of the Antares Sector junior classmen, Kodene had 'skillfully acquired' the dedication plaque from the USS Constellation from a group of Rigel Sector cadets and was now hiding it under Gallium's bed. Val'gural had managed to wrestle a model of a Miranda-class starship away from the Mutara Sector cadets and Nuhvill had snatched a weird, glowing orb from Vulcan Sector. They'd taken part in games of Earth basketball, Andorian Venxixxix (using training phasers instead of Andorian disintegration cannons) and a very boring (yet confusing) round of some strange Vulcan game that seemed to involve balancing the mysteries of the universe on a spinning plate.

Lt. Wellington, the officer in charge of Antares Sector, had also made his first appearance, though most of the lower-classmen only recognized him because his face (along with that of the rest of the Sector Staff) had been posted on a wall for them to memorize. His photo depicting a calm, slightly pale, early-middle-aged man, was a strong contrast from the reality, as Lt. Wellington had a habit of cheering on his cadets until he was sweating and red in the face.

Still, it was better than the week had been. And so, naturally, they'd assumed that Sunday would be different.

Assumption wrong!

And yet, the day turned out to be fairly painless. After breakfast, they were given a few hours to themselves. Then it was back to the regular drudgery of fitness training, briefings, ironing and boot polishing, all with the 'gentle' prodding of their SNAP staff.

What seemed strange, however, was that despite Buhras' promise that the nice girl was gone and that it was time to meet 'the bitch', as she put it, the Brute Squad cadets hadn't noticed any real change in her behaviour. During a discussion on this topic over lunch, Guthar had suggested that it was because all Bajoran women were naturally bitches. Malespere, however, had suggested that it had more to do with the fact that their inspection really hadn't been that bad.

"We did OK," he'd insisted, "I mean, sure. They found stuff wrong. But we're brand new at this stuff! There's no way they expected everything to be perfect!"

"Then why the yelling?" Bizkit had wondered, a 'WTF' look on her face.

"They can't tell us we did good at this point," Malespere had said, "We'd get lazy,"

"How do you know so much about this?" Veksai had asked, a sceptical look on his face.

"It, like, makes sense, dude!"Malespere replied.

"Oh, it does?" Baxter had said, shoving a forkful of bacon into his mouth, "Seems like a load of crap to me,"

As they bedded down Sunday night, only Vexnar was patrolling the Brute Squad hallway.

"Goodnight, pathetic humanoids," he hissed, his voice dry and disdainful "Tomorrow is a big day!"

Vexnar hadn't been kidding.

As per the now-standard SNAP routine, the Brute Squad cadets had been dragged out of their beds by the now-hated strains of whatever the hell that Klingon opera was, pushed into a run around the campus, complete with stops for push-ups, sit-ups and even a few chin-ups, given a scant 8 minutes to shower and dress, marched to breakfast, then finally marched to a drab-looking building near the center of campus.

The interior of the building, a huge, grey auditorium, was quickly filling up with lower-classmen cadets from all the Sectors of the Academy. They were quickly directed by uniformed staff into a series of lines, where they were given their class timetables.

"What the…" Veksai trailed off as he stared at his timetable, "Non-Einsteinian Physics? Introduction to Isolinear Circuits? Introduction to Xeno-Literature? What the hell is this stuff?"2

"I have the same classes as you," Kumari said, looking under his shoulder at Veksai's timetable. (She was much shorter than the hybrid.), "Didn't you study this stuff in school?"

Veksai gave her a look.

"It's been years since I've been in school," he said dryly.

"Do either of you know where room KTMR-11-3 is?" Maelspere asked, noticing that they had the same schedule as he and Bahred.

"No clue," Veksai shrugged.

After much wandering around, they finally found an information terminal that informed them that KTMR-11-3 was a lecture hall in Khitomer building, the towering spire that dominated the center of the Academy grounds.

There had been some initial confusion when the Brute Squad cadets (along with all the other lower-classmen squads) realized that their respective SNAP staffs had left them at the auditorium after the timetables had been handed out. Apparently, SNAP cadets were given the freedom to get themselves from one class to other. Although they were, of course, expected to march everywhere, even to and from class.

"Does anybody else find this really strange?" Veksai asked softly as they marched out of the auditoriam, trying not to move his lips. (And thus catching the attention and ire of the senior classmen around them.)

"How so?" Malespere asked.

"Hail, senior!" Kumari said loudly, greeting a mid-classman as he walked past them.

"Greetings, lower-classmen," the cadet said, a smirk on his face.

"I mean, marching somewhere without the rest of the Squad," Veksai went on, once the mid-classman was out of earshot, "Without the staff here to chew us out,"

"It totally does," Bahred said loudly. Malespere gave him a poke in the back, and he lowered his voice.

"Sorry, man," Bahred said, lowing his voice, "But yeah, you're like, totally right. It's like we're doing something wrong,"

"According to our SNAP staff, we're always doing something wrong," Veksai said, rolling his eyes.

"EYES TO THE FRONT, LOWERS!" somebody shouted from the distance.

"Yes, senior!" they all replied.

After their first class, Astrophysics, the four students spent a good ten minutes hunting for KTMR-13-1, the lecture hall in which their Federation History class was due to be held. They'd come to the conclusion that either A; the designers of Khitomer building had been on drugs when they'd designed the place, B; the designers of Khitomer building had bee insane or C; some inconsiderate ass had gone around and changed all the room signs around. Whichever the case, finding a specific room in Khitomer building was a task unto itself. As Malespere led them through the maze of corridors and stairwells (SNAP students weren't allowed to use the turbolifts), Veksai hung at the back of the group, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into. The Astrophysics class had been…interesting. Sure, it was just in introduction, a description of what would be covered during the semester, and yeah, he recognized a lot of terms like 'black hole', G-type star' and 'wormhole'. But when the professor had gone on to discuss the interaction of verteron particles in the Bajoran Wormhole3 and the effects they had on the subspace strata of normal space-time, his eyes had promptly crossed and his brain had promptly gone on vacation.

Federation History was better…except that half the class had fallen asleep within fifteen minutes. Two periods of Xeno-Liturature had nearly put all of them into a coma…at least until the professor had thrown a temper-tantrum (along with several pieces of stationary) at the front of the lecture hall. A period of Non-Einsteinian Physics later, and Veksai was pretty sure his head was going to explode.

Lunch however, yielded a pleasant surprise: They were eating on their own instead of as a Squad. Yes, they had to march to the dining hall and yes, they still had to keep their arms at their sides and their eyes to the front…but they could sit as soon as they had their meals, and they had an entire half hour to eat.

"Man, what a morning," Dylan Baxter said, placing his overloaded tray on the table, "What a rough morning!"

"Oh yeah?" Igor asked, "What classes did you have?"

"I had two periods of Cultural Studies," Baxter said, "It was rough,"

"And after that?" Igor asked.

"After what?" Baxter asked, looking back dumbly.

"After Cultural Studies!"

"Oh. Nothing. I went back to my room and took a nap."

"WHAT?"

There was a sudden commotion as Veksai, Kumari, Malespere, Bahred, Quaterman, Bizkit, Fastocheni, M'kr'gr and several others slammed their utensils down onto the table and stared in shock at Baxter.

"That's all I had," Wind, an Asian-looking Trill4, said. "Why? Do they offer more classes here?"

"You mean more than just Cultural Studies?" Quarterman asked, cocking her head and giving Wind an odd look.

"Yeah…" Wind trailed off, smiling shyly.

"How did you guys get off so easy?" Veksai demanded, ignoring the conversation between Wind and Quarterman, "Our morning was packed!"

"Oh, you guys must be in the EngOps program," Gallium said. The cheerful, innocent look on his face seemed to indicate that he was unaware of the sudden tension at the table.

"That's not a real word," Wind said, going back to her meal, neatly ducking as one of Kodene's tentacles swished over her head.

"Well, no, it's short for Engineering and Operations," Gallium said, looking pleased with himself.

"You can either explain that, or I can rip your spleen out through your eye-sockets," M'Kr'gr growled.

"Didn't you notice that all the non-SNAP cadets have different colours on their uniforms? Yellow, blue and red?" Gallium asked, cringing just a bit.

"We've had a lot of stuff on our minds," Bahred said.

"Yes," Veksai grimaced, "Like push-ups. And inspections. And other stupid, childish mind-games like playing 'How-Can-We-Change-Things-Today?"

"Yellow is for Engineering and Operations. Y'know, people who work with technology, or resource management. Engineers, shipboard security, that kinda thing," Gallium explained, looking even more pleased with himself, "Blue is for Medical and Sciences. Doctors and scientists. Red is for Command, the people in charge,"

"Uh, we're going to be officers," Quarterman pointed out, "Shouldn't we all wear red?"

"Nope," Gallium replied, "Only pilots and command officers wear red. If you're a science officer, you'll be commanding a science team, but you'll still wear blue. You'd only switch to red if you became like a first officer or something."5

"They why are some of the cadets here wearing red?"

"Because some officers, like pilots, don't fit into the other two,"

"OK, nobody cares about that right now!" Malespere interrupted.

"It's kinda interesting," Wind said.

"No, it isn't," Veksai muttered softly.

"But what does it do with you guys getting half the morning off while we were stuck in class?" Malespere continued.

"This is still a university," Gallium said, "You picked a major and a trade when you applied, right?"

"Right,"

"So your classes and schedule are determined by that," Gallium said, "If you're trying to become a warp field specialist, you need a different education than somebody who's gonna be a phaser control officer,"

"So in other words," Veksai said, "Those of us who slaved away all morning are going to be running science teams, engineering teams and commanding starships, while the rest of you are going to be commanding a waste extraction6 team?"

"Or commanding security teams and being sent down to some god-forsaken rock to die honourably?" M'Kr'gr added.

"Well, no," Gallium said, looking annoyed, "I mean, we're all going to be command officers, and it's not like we're any less capable than you are,"

"Uh-huh," Kumari said, "You're just taking the easy classes,"

"Well, it's not like Cultural Studies is any tougher than, say, Intro to Isolinear Circuits," Derok said.

"Uh-huh,"

The EngOps and Sciences cadets around the table exchanced superior glances.

"Hey, don't go thinking you're better than us or something!" Baxter snapped.

"Oh, never," Quarterman grinned.

"Of course not," Fastocheni added.

The EngOps and MedSci cadets exchanged another glance, then broke out in giggles.

That night they were given mandatory study time. The 'study time' was appreciated. The 'mandatory' wasn't. Vexnar was patrolling the corridor like a centurion, a nasty-looking Andorian blade of some kind in hand. Derok had tried to leave his room for a bathroom break, only to have Vexnar execute an impressive series of acrobatics that ended with the blade held firmly against the Tellarite's neck.

"And where," Vexnar hissed, "Do you think you are going?"

"B-b-bathroom?" Derok stuttered, pointing at the doors to the Brute corridor bathroom. (The cadets had spent an entire evening scraping the mildew off the door panels.)

"Did you ask permission?" Vexnar snapped.

"N-n-no.."

"Then return to your Cultural Studies homework. If you ask permission in an hour or so, I may permit it,"

"B-b-b-b-b-"

"MOVE IT!"

With a pig-like squeal, Derok back-pedalled into his room.

As the week progressed, the Brute Squad cadets settled into their class routine. The classes and mandatory study time became a mixed blessing. A blessing, because they freed them from the ravages of their SNAP staff and the possibilities of extra physical training, boring briefings or idiotic nonsense such as change parades7 or extra cleaning duties. A curse because of the extra workload. Even though it was just the first week of class, assignments and readings were being handed out like Halloween candy. Even the arts majors were finding that half of their spare periods were needed just to wade through the list of reading assignments. Nuhvill, in particular, was very annoyed at the extra sleep he was losing. Veksai was almost ready to pull his hair out…of all the Brute Squad cadets, he had been out of the Federation Education System the longest, and he was positive that he'd either missed another technology Renaissance, the discovery of some really advanced alien computers, or possibly the second coming of Computer Jesus. Regardless, he was struggling. Surprisingly, a lot of help had come from mid-classman Buhras. She was SNAP staff, but she was also an EngOps student and was apparently willing to help out the lower-classmen, when she wasn't screaming at them. Anybody wanting help had to go through the rather annoying introduction that was required anytime they spoke one-on-one with their SNAP staff, but at that point Veksai was willing to do almost anything. Even if it involved standing outside her door, reciting his name, service number, Sector and Squad at the top of his lungs.

Another unexpected development was the firm reminder that Brute Squad was NOT the only group of lower-classmen on the campus. For the first week, they'd been permitted to speak to nobody except other members of Brute Squad. Now, suddenly, they found their classes filled with cadets from all the various Sectors of the Academy. Terran Sector, Vulcan Sector, Rigellian Sector, Bolian Sector, Andorian Sector and even the highly controversial Klingon Sector. (Despite the name, there were no actual Klingons in Klingon Sector.) And more. Granted, there wasn't exactly a lot of time to socialize during class, but it was nice to realize that they weren't the only ones going through SNAP.

Their after-class athletic periods had started to include intra-Sector sports as well. Brute Squad's first match was a game of hover-hockey against Archer Squad. Their SNAP staff had 'cheered' from the sidelines, though to Malespere phrases like 'If you don't win, you're getting extra PT tonight!' or 'Win, or we shall slice through your limbs like xivvix cheese!' didn't exactly sound like cheers.

As the Friday of their second week of SNAP approached, the Brute Squad cadets were hoping against hope that maybe, this weekend, things would be a bit easier.

Instead, they found themselves marched around the campus, memorizing names of buildings, dates, events and other incredibly useful trivia.

"Exactly why are we doing this?" Wind, a cadet of Asian background, asked after being told that they were expected to remember the gamma-weilder frequency used by the construction workers that had constructed Spire.

"DON'T TALK IN RANK!" Vexnar snarled. Then, calmly, "This is to increase your Academy knowledge. You must understand the history and heritage of this place if you are to become a full student,"

"Why?" Wind asked, a blank look in her eyes.

"Because it is essential!"

"Why?"

"It's…it's Academy knowledge!" mid-classman Buhras added, "It's important!"

"Why?"

'"BECAUSE IF YOU DO NOT LEARN IT, I WILL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!" Vexnar screamed. Kodene unobtrusively wrapped a tentacle around Wind's mouth before she could ask just why Vexnar would do such a thing.

After what seemed like hours of walking, they were finally marched to dinner, then returned to Fort Pike. They'd just nicely returned to their rooms when Mecablox strode through the doors into the Brute Squad corridor, deftly skirting the gaping hole still in the floor.

"Everybody out in the corridor!" he called out loudly.

Groaning, annoyed by the bad timing and still feeling worn out from the week's exertions, the cadets quickly obeyed. Well, they were slowly obeying, up until Vexnar threatened to put Andorian xlarvia8 beasts in the air ducts. Then they obeyed quickly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mecablox said, his voice returning to its calm monotone, "Oh, and of course our hermaphroditic cadets,"

Kodene's tentacles flicked in acknowledgement. Gallium flinched back in disgust as droplets of slime9 landed on his cheek.

"Tonight, you will have an inspection," Mecablox continued. The cadets immediately groaned. So much for a quiet evening…now there was going to be ironing…and polishing…and dusting. Never mind the fact that nobody on Earth had had to do either since replicators were invented!

"What's more, you will be inspected by the Antares Sector Commander, Lieutenant Wellington. He is expecting a very high standard. So am I. If we are disappointed there will be…consequences."

He turned and left. Barely 3 seconds passed before the hallway burst into a frenzy of movement.

"Team 2!" Malespere called out, "You've got the common areas! Sweep the floor! Mop! Dust off the signs around that hole!"

"Team 1, we've got the bathrooms," Veksai sighed, "Get the oxygen tanks and the decontamination gear!"

"Team 3, we're on laundry!" Gallium cried out.

Having inspections almost every morning for the past two weeks had, if nothing else, taught the cadets how to prepare for an inspection. Ironing boards were up in seconds. Some cadets, such as Veksai and Guthar were immediately tasks with ironing shirts. Others, like Derok and Gallium, set to polishing boots. Still others, like Igor, preferred to take idiotic shortcuts. Igor was, at the moment, running an auto-polisher over his boots. (What he didn't realize was that Starfleet cadet-issue boots were specially designed so that the auto-polish would flake off in about an hour.)

"So, we get to meet our Sector Commander," Veksai mused as he ran his iron over Nuhvel's uniform.

"Yeah, so?" Nuhvill shrugged, wishing he'd been issued the self-polishing boots that real officers had, "Big deal."

"Oh," Veksai shrugged, "I dunno. I just thought…y'know, he's in charge of us, and all that,"

"Yeah, we've been here all of two weeks as we haven't seen much of the guy!"

"Sure we have," Veksai frowned, "He was at the sports day thing. And we've seen him around. He's the guy who was cheering us on during our morning runs,"

"Really?" Nuhvill considered for a minute. "Maybe. I wasn't really paying attention."

"Obviously," Veksai grumbled. Lt. Willington had made a point of running with their squad every once in a while, shouting encouragement to the lower-classmen. Their discussion was interrupted as Fastocheni stuck his head in the door.

"Have either of you seen my optronic calibrator?" he asked.

"OK, first, what the hell is an optronic calibrator," Nuhvel asked, giving a sort of amused laugh, "And second, what the hell does it look like?"

"Uh, one, I don't know. They just gave us each one," Fastocheni shrugged, "And second, it looks sort of like a slice of metal pie on a stick. And third, it's supposed to be in the third desk drawer, next to the engineering tricorder and the phaser rifle targeting scope,"

"Oh, that thing," Veksai nodded knowingly, "Nope, I haven't seen yours."

"Shit," The gangly Italian pulled his head out of the room to continue searching.

Veksai dug around in his drawers for a moment, double checking that his optronic calibrator was in the correct place, according to that stupid room standard.

"I wonder what the f**k that thing does," Nuhvill wondered.

"I wonder why the f**k they think we all need one," Veksai wondered, placing the confusing object back in its drawer.

An hour later, the cadets were standing outside their rooms. They were wearing their regular coverall-type cadet uniforms, complete with blank grey SNAP shoulders. Their rooms were laid out according to the much-hated rooms standards. Finally, at 1900H, the doors to the Brute Squad corridor swished open, displacing an ambitious, web-building spider and revealing Lieutenant Wellington. Wellington looked to be in his early thirties with a slightly heavy build, a broad, cheerful face and brown, slightly thinning hair. (None of his cadets dared mention that to him.)10 As he entered, Mecablox brought himself to attention and saluted11.

"Brute Squad awaiting your inspection, sir!" he called out.

"Very good, mid-classman," Wellington said. He walked casually to where Kethnor was waiting, then allowed the Klingon to escort him into the first Team 1 room.

"Dust," Wellington commented blandly before moving on to the next room.

"This floor hasn't been mopped," he said. Veksai worked to control the smouldering glare he was just dying to send Wellington's way. He'd mopped that damned floor, there was nothing wrong with it!

"These beds are not properly made," he said of Wind's room.

"This sword doesn't belong behind the desk," he said, tossing a fencing epee out of Fastocheni and M'Kr'gr's room.

When he came to Igor and Baxter's room, his nose immediately wrinkled.

"What is that?" he demanded, "What the hell IS that?"

Craning his neck slightly and trying not to be noticed, Veksai looked down the hall. Igor's uniform was looking a little wrinkled, and for some reason his boots had started flaking bits of polish all over the floor. Next to him, Baxter was wearing a goofy grin, and didn't seem to realize that he had his shirt on backwards.

"This, this is just disgusting!" Wellington's voice came from the room, "Did you even clean this pit?"

He came out.

"Gentlemen, you will have to do better. Much better. Or I will simply kick you out of the Academy. Your careers will be over before they even begin,"

Igor swallowed. Baxter blinked, reminding Veksai of a deer caught in shuttlecraft headlights.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Wellington said loudly. Kodene twisted it's tentacles in irritation.

"And other genders or non-genders," Wellington added with a sigh, mentally cursing modern-day political correctness. He turned and started pacing up and down the hall.

"This is unacceptable!" he said, unaware that a few doors down Quarterman was mouthing the words with him, already knowing what he was going to say.

"Your SNAP staff has been working non-stop to try to teach you the discipline and attention to detail you need to become members of this Sector!" Wellington said, "I can only conclude then that you need a little extra instruction. Therefore, I have given your SNAP staff the night off."

Malespere frowned as Mecablox, Drain, Buhras, Kethnor and Vexnar turned and walked smartly out of the corridor. Was Wellington planning on teaching them by himself? What the hell was going on?

"Brute Squad," Welling said as the doors again hissed open, "Allow me to introduce you to the junior-classmen of Antares Sector!"

"Uh-oh," Veksai muttered softly as at almost two dozen hard-faced cadets marched into the corridor, fire burning in their eyes. The halted together in the center of the hallway, then turned outward in unison.

"I leave you now in their tender care," Wellington said, turning on a heel and departing.

The newly arrived cadets stood stiffly at attention in the center of the hallway, facing out and looking at the Brute Squad cadets as they stood, shock-still next to their doorways.

Malespere briefly considered the challenges they'd faced with only four SNAP staff members, then considered what it would be like to have that sort of instruction on a one-to-one basis.

"This can't be good," Bahred muttered next to him.

Malespere was inclined to agree.

For a moment, they just stood there, unmoving. An unpractised observer may not have noticed any difference between the two groups. Both stood at attention: arms straight at their sides, heels together, chins up and shoulders back. Both groups wore the uniforms of Academy cadets. Neither group smiled, or otherwise acknowledged the other. In two short weeks, Brute Squad had already learned a great deal about the behaviour and comportment that was expected of Academy cadets. (They still had a long way to go, of course.)

To somebody with a bit more experience, a number of differences immediately presented themselves. The junior classmen each wore an 'Antares Sector' patch on one shoulder, while the lower classmen in Brute Squad had yet to earn their patches. The junior classmen uniforms sported the red, blue and yellow shoulders denoting their department, while Brute Squad had only the SNAP grey. And, most telling, each junior classmen had a calm, cool and in-control cast to his or face, while the Brute Squad cadets were a mix of fear (Kumari and Bahred), resignation (Veksai and Fastocheni), annoyance (M'Kr'gr and Quaterman) and panic (Derok). As they stood, waiting, one could also see that the lower-classmen were looking around, their eyes darting from side to side. A couple even moved their heads briefly, before a glare from a junior-classman reminded him/her to straighten up.

One junior classman, a tall, very slim human, stepped out of the line. His hair was extremely short and his face was pale and sharply featured. He swaggered slightly as he started to walk up and down the hallway.

"So, Brute Squad. You're the new members of Antares Sector, huh?" he asked.

There was assorted mumblings from the cadets. The tall cadet looked like he was about to say something else when another junior classman stepped out. This one was almost the total opposite of the first: short, muscular and tanned. Fastocheni, the closest lower-classmen, was pretty sure he wasn't human. The tail was a dead giveaway.

"A junior-classman just asked you a question!" the short cadet shouted, the volume of his voice totally out of proportion with his size.

"Yes, junior-classman!" the Brute Squad cadets replied, somewhat unsteadily.

"I'm junior-classman Lafonge," the tall cadet shouted, "And, from what I can tell, you're all pieces of s**t!"

"S**t!" the shorter cadet echoed.

"I don't know what they were thinking when they let you in here," Lafonge went on, passing by Kodene and Gallium and giving Gallium a look of loathing, "But my guess would be that somebody f**ked up! Big time!"

"Bags, every one of you!" the shortie shouted, "S**t-pumps! Soup sandwiches!"

As the two went through the somewhat humiliating (and completely unsurprising) insult routine, most of the Brute Squad cadets allowed their minds to wander. Kodene considered the best way to ship its egg-nodules back home before they hatched. M'Kr'gr wondered whether or not his race's culture would include such ridiculous military rituals, assuming the artificially created species lasted long enough to develop any rituals. Veksai wondered why, oh why, did Lafonge even bother with this speech when many of the Brute Squad cadets were tuning it out. And, presumably, Lafonge knew they were tuning it out, or at least that they knew what he was going to say. Did Lafonge know that some of them knew that he knew that they knew?

Everybody's musings were cut short when the topic of Lafonge's rant suddenly shifted.

"Right then," he said, "I think it's time for us to get started. Junior-classmen!" he looked around briefly, "Begin!"

It was as if somebody had fired a gunshot. The junior-classmen broke formation instantly, several of them heading straight for the dorm rooms, the rest starting to patrol the corridor.

"WHAT THE F**K IS THIS?" the shout came from Derok's and Guthar's room.

"It's a dead mouse!" Derok shouted, standing stiffly at attention. Standing at the opposite side of the door, Guthar rolled his eyes. Derok was quickly building a reputation for saying things that were…less than intelligent.

The junior-classman poked her head out of the door. Derok was too busy panicking to notice much of anything, but Guthar noticed that instead of hair, she appeared to have porcupine-like quills coming out of her head.

"What? How the hell can you know what I'm talking about if you're standing out here?"

"I guessed?"

"Well," she said, glaring at him, "Maybe you wouldn't have to guess if you'd GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!"

"Yes, junior-classman!" Derok shouted.

She disappeared back into the room and started rummaging through Derok's closet.

"This shirt? NOT IRONED!" she tossed the offending garment onto the bed, "These pants? DIRTY! These shoes….hey? WHERE THE F**K ARE YOU?"

"Out here, junior-classman!" Derok called.

The quilled girl's face started to turn red.

Down the hall, Fastocheni and M'Kr'gr were receiving similar treatment from a well-built male. His skin was lime green and almost appeared to be scaled…though it in no way approached the M'Kr'gr's heavy hide. He also had bright red hair, which seemed very strange on an apparently reptilian species.

"Dust, everywhere!" he snapped, "And what is this?" he pointed down.

M'Kr'gr and Fastocheni stared for a moment.

"The floor," M'Kr'gr growled.

"The floor." The alien said flatly, "So, you are, what do the humans say? A smart-ass!"

He continued poking around the room.

"This is not supposed to be here!" he snapped, grabbing a scale-polisher out of a desk drawer and tossing it into the hall, "Neither is this!" a replicator program chip followed the scale-polisher.

"These boots are disgusting!" he snapped, the volume of his voice increasing as the offending boots were tossed onto the floor. He continued rummaging, this time looking under Fastocheni's desk.

Please don't let him find my epee, Fastocheni thought to himself.

Standing outside his room, Malespere witnessed two simultaneous events: A slim sword came flying out of Fastocheni's room, impaling itself a good half-foot into the corridor wall, and there appeared to be some sort of explosion in Derok's room. Malespere wasn't sure exactly what happened, but there was a great deal of shouting involved. He flinched as a slim, sharp object abruptly whizzed through the air, narrowly missing one of the patrolling junior-classman before embedding itself in the ceiling.

"Dammit, Maretan!" the boy snapped, "Keep those things under control!"

"Holy crap!" somebody shouted, "Is this a bathroom, or a toxic waste dump?"

"It's these fwarking lowers!" the first girl, Maretan, apparently, snapped back, "Look at this phaser rifle!"

"I do believe this collection of toxic mold has almost achieved sentience," a Vulcan cadet observed, regarding a mold patch that Brute Squad had been trying to eradicate for the past two weeks.

A phaser rifle was abruptly thrown into the corridor, skittering across the floor until it came to rest at the first boy's feet. He gave a low whistle.

"Wow. Look at the fingerprints on that sucker! Think he's ever cleaned it?"

"No! And he still hasn't figured out that I want him IN THE F**KING ROOM!"

"Dude!" Malespere whispered, trying to get Derok's attention. The Tellarite was still standing next to his door, oblivious.

"Quiet, you!" somebody shouted, silencing Malespere.

Maretan came back out into the hall, stood in front of Derok and began speaking very slowly.

"You. Get in. The room!"

"Huh? Oh!" Finally, Derok stepped through the open door into his dorm room.

"Hey, why are there porcupine quills stuck to the wall?"

Malespere winced as a fresh round of curses (along with at least three more quills) exploded from Derok's room.

Abruptly, there was commotion in his own room.

"UNACCEPTABLE!" Their junior-classman, a fairly unremarkable male, abruptly shouted.

Turning, Malespere and Bahred looked into their room. While they were distracted by the antics of the other junior-classmen, theirs had systematically (and silently) managed to trash every corner of their room. Uniform parts were scattered everywhere, Malespere's training rifle had been dismantled and placed in the sink, Bahred's tricorder was sitting on the window sill and a pair of dirty underwear was hanging off of Bahred's computer monitor.

"This entire room, and everything in it, is totally unacceptable!' he repeated.

"Uh, it wasn't like this five minutes ago…" Bahred said.

"No, it wasn't," the boy aknowledged, "Although, if you'd actually ironed these shirts, they would have stayed on the hanger. If the floor had actually been clean, I wouldn't have tossed anything else on it! Everything was filthy…disgusting. DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO BE HERE?" Bahred jumped as the boy suddenly shouted right into his face.

"Y-yes!" Bahred replied.

"We'll see!" the junior-classman looked around again.

"Pack it up," he said, then left.

The Brute Squad corridor had become a war zone.

Every room now contained at least one junior-classman, swearing, shouting and declaring that everything the lower-classmen had done was completely and totally inadequate. Possessions had been scattered around the rooms, and in many cases thrown out into the corridor. Gallium had had to go down into the basement twice to retrieve items that had fallen through the hole in the floor, and Fastocheni was having trouble prying his epee out of the wall.

"This pillow is illogical," T'Henki, a cool Vulcan12 woman said calmly as she surveyed the luxurious satin pillow that Kumari had hidden behind her bed, "Do you perhaps think that you are a princess, worthy of extra luxury?"

"Actually-" Kumari started. She was cut off as her roommate elbowed her in the side. (They'd learned that their SNAP staff didn't care much for royal status, and doubted that the junior-classmen would be any more accommodating.)

Down the hall, another Vulcan was stepping into Malespere and Bahred's room. The two of them were rushing around frantically, trying to put all their possessions back in place.

"Why are you not following directions?" the Vulcan asked Bahred.

"Wha? He told us to pack it up!" Bahred said.

"Indeed." The Vulcan nodded, "We are considering having you removed from the Academy. In preparation for this, you are to pack your possessions and prepare to leave."

Bahred and Malespere stared at him, speechless.

"You may begin," the Vulcan said, turning to leave.

The two boys looked at each other for a moment, swallowed, then started hunting around for their suitcases.

A few rooms down, Veksai and Nuvill were being terrorized by an absolutely enormous Lemnorian named Dril. The man was huge, easily 6'6 with shoulders that almost didn't fit through the door. Veksai had been forced to pull out his ironing board, and was re-ironing shirts that had been thrown casually on his bed. Nuhvill was dusting surfaces that had already been dusted.

Veksai was bored.

OK, yes, initially the junior-classmen had surprised the heck out of him. But as the chaos continued, he'd started to feel that something about the junior-classmen was just a bit too…over the top. He followed whatever instructions the Lemnorian gave him, kept a blank expression on his face and tried to forget that he was years older than most, if not all of the cadets tormenting Brute Squad.

Regardless, none of them were willing to actually stand up to the junior-classmen.

Veksai finished his ironing and re-hung his shirts in his closet. Dril had left and was now roaming up and down the halls, shouting orders. Wind abruptly ran up to his door.

"Can you iron these?" she asked, breathless and holding up a pair of cadet shirts.

"OK," Veksai shrugged.

Once the junior-classmen started moving out of the rooms and back into the hall, the Brute Squad cadets started falling into the habits they'd already established during the first two weeks of SNAP. Garments were passed around for ironing. Nuhvill moved to Igor & Baxter's room to help them pack (they'd also been informed they were be considered for expulsion), while Quarterman and Bizkit aided Malespere and Bahred. Within 15 minutes, the chaos created by the junior-classmen was coming back under control.

But the junior-classmen were starting to chang as well. They were still marching up and down the halls and popping in and out of rooms. However, their shouted commands and exclamations of incompetence had faded. It started with Dril, as he surveyed Veksai's ironing.

"What the hell?" Dril rumbled, his voice almost making the room shake, "Look, if you fold the shirt like this, it works a hell of a lot better!" he demonstrated, then abruptly left the room.

"Attempting to sweep the floor before you have dusted is not logical," T'Henki informed Wind, "Work from the upper surfaces of your room to the bottom,"

"If you really need a place to keep your sword, put it in the storage room," the reptilian boy told Fastocheni, helping the gangly cadet pull his epee out of the wall, "At least until SNAP is over."

All over the corridor, the harsh criticism was fading, becoming increasingly constructive. Oh, the junior-classmen were still pointing out the many, many flaws of the lower-classmen…but at least now they were also telling them how to fix them, how to do things better, and how to ensure that the same problems wouldn't be repeated.

"OK, EVERYBODY OUT IN THE HALL!" Lafonge shouted.

As the Brute Squad cadets rushed into the corridor, moving into place next to their rooms, they noticed that the other junior-classmen had left. Lefonge was still there, walking up and down the corridor. Malespere, Bahred, Igor and Baxter were standing next to their luggage, still looking somewhat nervous.

He looked inside each of their rooms. Their Academy-issued possessions had been moved back into place, as dictated by the room standard. Their civilian cloths and items were packed neatly into their suitcases.

"You four. Unpack," Lafonge snapped, "The rest of you, help them out,"

There was a 10-minute flurry of movement as they complied.

"OK then." Lafonge clapped his hands together, "How many of you have not yet gone swimming in the bay?"

Confused looks.

"Well grab your chairs and let's go!"

"Our chairs?" somebody asked.

"Yup! They smell like ass! We're gonna wash them off!"

Still looking confused, the cadets retrieved their rolling desk-style chairs from their rooms and began pushing them down the corridor, following Lafonge as he deftly skirted around the gaping hole in the floor.

He led them into the atrium of Fort Pike then proceeded right through, ignoring the exit, the dilapidated turbolift and the pile of broken furniture in the far corner. He led them through a doorway leading to a corridor opposite the Brute Squad living area. This hallway was in the same battered condition, but the floor was intact and the room doors were closed. Also, a wall panel that appeared to be dead in the Brute Squad corridor apparently had a live counterpart in this half of the building. (The cadets had no way of knowing it, but that panel controlled the replicators and computer access in that wing of the building.)

Leading them past the dorm rooms, he came to a wide set of double doors. On them was the blue & white, circular, wreathed Federation logo. However, instead of having the usual collection of stars in the center, this logo had the image of a planet. The word ANTARES was written beneath the logo in several languages. The doors slid open, revealing…

"What the…" Derok muttered, staring.

"Don't just stand there," Maretan called from inside, gesturing for them to hurry up, "pull your chair and get in here, the pizza's getting cold!"

Bahred stared, somewhat dumbfounded, as the junior-classmen moved around the lounge. The scent of food was overwhelming; several pizza boxed were piled up in one corner…delivery too, not replicated! The redheaded lizard-like boy was working the replicator in the room, producing beverages while the cadet who had tormented he and Malespere was tapping the controls next to the large viewer set into one wall.

The room was obviously a lounge of some kind. The rest of the junior-classmen were lounging (appropriately enough) on comfortable-looking sofas, waiting while the lower-classmen dragged their chairs into the room.

"So what do you guys wanna watch?" one of the older cadets asked, "I've got some 'Days of Honour'13 chips here, and I think Dril brought some 'Gateway' chips. Oh, and 'Terminator 6' is playing on Krinokor14 tonight!"

"Enough with the frickin' 21st Century movies, O'Denth!" Adeth, the lizard-boy shouted.

"You weren't complaining when we watched 'Attack of the Amazons' last week!" O'Denth shot back.

"Uh, hello? Naked women?"

O'Denth stared at him for a moment.

"OK, that's a good point," he admitted.

"In actual fact," T'Henki said crisply, "The ancient Amazon women would cut off their right breast, in order to better use a bow and arrow,"

The men in the room gave her assorted looks of disgust.

"Now that your libidos have been sufficiently restrained-" the Vulcan women said calmly

"Try killed,"O'Denth muttered.

"-perhaps we can choose an entertainment?"

After some squabbling, they decided on 'Crewmen Extreme', a parody movie that featured a group of low-ranking Starfleet crewmen who was attempting to avoid being horribly killed by ravenous aliens. Veksai didn't really see what was so funny, but he did notice that M'Kr'gr and Kodene seemed to laugh hysterically every time the human characters started screaming. Ah well, it was better than spending the entire night being shouted at. Which reminded him, just why exactly had they gone through that whole load of crap anyway? It had clearly been almost as much of an effort for the junior-classmen as it had been for the lower!

"So," Lafonge said, once the credits started to roll, "You're probably wondering what that whole thing was about, huh?"

Good timing, Veksai mused.

"See, there's a few things you should learn about this place," the shorter, muscular cadet (the one with the tail) jumped in, "First, the senior classmen don't give a crap about any of you. They're graduating this year, they have bigger things to worry about than a pack of lowers,"

"And the mid-classmen are out to get you," O'Denth went on, "If they're not SNAP staff, then they're probably buddies with somebody who is. And they're going to do everything they can to grind you down,"

"But the junior-classmen are the ones you want to pay attention to," Lafonge continued, "See, we're the only ones here who still really remember what it's like to be where you are now. We were lowers last year. We're the only ones here who will actually take the time to help you out, and to look out for you," he gestured around the lounge.

"Plus, we're going to be helping to run the place when you're junior-classmen," Maretan added.

"And running the place when you're mid-classmen," Dril rumbled.

"Unless you do something stupid, or pull a 10 Squadron and vanish!" Adeth laughed.

The junior-classmen laughed as well.

"What do you mean, 'pull a 10 Squadron'?" Gallium asked after a few moments.

"You guys have never heard of 10 Squadron?" Lafonge asked, staring, "Montcalm Squadron? No?"

They shook their heads.

"It is an old, Terran military legend," T'Henki started.

"More like urban legend," Maretan corrected.

"It was way back in the early 21th-Century," T'Henki continued, "Back at one of the old Earth military colleges. In Canadia, I believe,"

"Canada," O'Denth corrected her, "And shut up! Vulcans make the worst storytellers,"

"That is a racist comment,"

"Yeah, and 'Humans are not logical' isn't?"

"Anyway," Adeth cut in, "10 Squadron was a group of cadets at the college in Canada. And they were like…well, they were sort of like Antares Sector, actually,"

"In what way?" Gallium asked.

The junior-classmen exchanged slightly embarrassed looks.

"You'll find out," Adeth continued, "So, like, they lived in this old building, Fort Champlain, and it was falling apart. Damaged furniture, damaged walls, toxic mold,"

"Sounds familiar," Veksai muttered, eyeing a hole in the lounge ceiling that exposed a number of cables and conduits.

"Then, one day, they all just vanished. Every one of them."

"What happened?" Quarterman asked.

"Nobody knows," T'Henki said, looking annoyed that her story had been hijacked. (Despite the whole 'Vulcans have no emotions' thing.)

"Some believe they were killed when Fort Champlain was gutted and renovated," Maretan said.

"Others claim that they were simply absent at one too many sporting events and were dismissed from the college," Meltan, the Vulcan male added.

"My father thinks they were disbanded and moved to the other 12 squadrons," Lafonge said.

"My favourite is the one about how the Canadian government was conducting experiments, and purposefully exposing them to toxins and chemicals to see if they would evolve into some sort of super-soldiers," O'Denth said.

"Would that work?" Baxter asked, his eyes wide.

"Well, the story goes that they actually evolved into a race of sentient mold, so no. I suppose not,"

"An any event, the point is that 'to pull a 10 Squadron'15 means 'to vanish'," T'Henki summarized.

"Huh," Bahred mused, "Interesting,"

A short time later, the Brute Squad cadets dragged their chairs back to their corridor and began getting ready for bed.

It had certainly been an interesting night. They had met their Sector Commander. They'd met (and been abused by) their junior-classmen. And, most importantly, they'd reached the mid-point of SNAP. Soon, in only two weeks, it would all be over.

And, perhaps most encouragingly, the junior-classmen had taught them one very important lesson:

After SNAP, things would get better. Much better.

Next: It's a race to the finish line as SNAP finally draws to a close! But before Brute Squad is free from the clutches of their staff, they still have a few more obstacles to overcome. Not the least of which is a special guest star who has something…interesting in mind…

1 Let's assume for the time being that Earth still has a 7-day week. It just makes things easier for everybody, unless you want me to make up some stupid system like 'Stardates ending in 12 and 13 are rest days. No? I didn't think so. Enjoy your 7-day weeks in the story, and don't bitch at me about details!

2 Non-Einsteinian refers to things beyond Einstein's understanding of the universe. Topics with 'Xeno' in the title refer to the study of a topic on other planets and races. Xeno-Literature, therefore, refers to the study of literature of species other than humans.

3 Bajoran Wormhole: A tunnel through space connecting the Bajoran star system with a point in the Gamma Quadrant. Wormholes allow ships to traverse vast distances in minutes rather than years. The Bajoran Wormhole, created by strange alien beings, is the only stable wormhole known to exist. It played a key role in the storyline of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

4 Trill – The Trill are a race characterized by lines of spots that run from their temples to their shoulders (and presumably, all the way down). Some Trill are 'joined', meaning that they have been implanted with a creature known as a symbiont. This results in a sort of shared consiousness between the two, in which the host has all the memories and experiences of the symbionts. As symbionts can live through hundreds of years and multiple hosts, this usually adds up to a lot of experience. Wind, however, is not joined.

5 Gallium's Explanation – Keep in mind, he's a lowly cadet, no matter how smart he thinks he is. He could be wrong (This is my clever way of avoiding having dozens of irate Trekkies shouting at me for missing something.)

6 Waste Extraction – Sewage processing.

7 Change Parades – Basically, 'You have 2 minutes to change into sports gear!' Then, two minutes later, 'You have four minutes to change into your dress uniform!' Continuum, ad naseum.

8 Xlarvia beasts: I made them up. But as far as the Brute Squad cadets are concerned, they're nasty little buggers that lay their eggs under your skin so their young can feast on your blood before bursting out, leaving ragged holes in your flesh. Charming, aren't they?

9 Velvattian slime is harmless. It evaporates quickly and leaves a rather pleasant odor. At least one Ferengi company attempted to market a line of Velvattian air fresheners, made with real Velvattian, at least until those Ferengi were horribly killed in some kind of manufacturing accident. Go fig.

10 Uh, just for the record, I made up the part with the receding hairline. And if the inspiration for Lt. Wellington ever reads this, I'm probably dead anyway.

11 Unlike today's armed forces, hand salutes in Starfleet are very, very rare and are reserved for ceremonial purposes, or when one wishes to pay a great, great compliment. Of course, many of the races in the Federation do not have hands with which to salute…

12 Vulcans – They're the race that supposedly have no emotions. They have them, they just try to hide them.

13 Days of Honor – A 24th Century Klingon soap-opera that exists only in the Traks universe. I just made up Gateway and Terminator 6 for the heck of it.

14 Krinokor – Klingon holovision satellite network. Lots of really violent shows.

15 10 Squadron (Montcalm) is one of 13 squadrons at the Royal Military College of Canada. As this story is being written, plans are in place to move them out of Fort Champlain and into the brand new Fort Brant. As this story was being posted, those plans had been postponed, leaving Montcalm in Champlain for at least another semester. We didn't really mind, we would have had to share a one-squadron building with 9 Squadron, at least until Champlain is renovated. The phrase 'Pulling a 10 Squadron' was actually coined during the 2007 end-of-year squadron photos. The 10 Squadron formal picture was taken properly. However, during the year, 10 Squadron picked up a bit of a reputation as the absentee 'missing-in-action' squadron, due to a couple of miscommunications. So for the informal photo we just sent one guy with a big sign that read 'Pulling a 10 Squadron'.


	4. Year 1 - Checkpoint

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

1.4 – " Checkpoint"

"And so," Dr. Robert Tulson1, physicist extraordinaire said, standing at the lecture podium in one of Khitomer Building's many lecture halls, "The people of Vandis 3 used the Temporal Translation Device to go back in time and witness one of the pivotal points in their planets history,"

Tulson paused for a moment, looking out at the class of lower-classmen he taught during third period.

"ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz,"

Tulson gripped the sides of the podium in frustration, his eyes darting around as he tried to find one, just one, conscious student.

"Did I mention," he said, "That they renamed the device the 'Flux Capacitor', and that they installed it in an ancient Terran DeLorean motor car?"

No response.

"Anyway," he continued, "they accidentally changed the course of their planets history and erased themselves from existence," his eyes were starting to blaze, "And if any of you people were ACTUALLY AWAKE, you'd be asking 'Oh, but Dr. Tulson, if they'd erased themselves from existence, how do we know about it?'. Arrrghhh!"

He started fishing around in his pocket, looking for the data chip he always kept during SNAP.

"I didn't want to have to do this," he said, "But you students leave me little choice,"

Marc Malespere was drifting.

Slowly, gently, he moved through the vast clouds, soaring away, away from San Francisco, away from the Academy and away, far away from SNAP. He could see China, India and then Eastern Europe as it moved beneath him. Soon, he'd be home, and he could spend some time climbing the cliffs near his parent's home. Yes, that would be nice.

Of course, he wasn't aware that he was dreaming, or it might have occurred to him that his newfound ability to fly would make rock-climbing pretty much obsolete.

Still, it was a pleasant dream. Peaceful, relaxing. Completely unlike the past week. SNAP was continuing in earnest, and things were not getting better.

It wasn't that the SNAP staff was taking new steps to challenge them. The morning fitness training, the inter-Sector sports, the inspections and the hated change parades were continuing pretty much as they had throughout the first two weeks. The junior, mid and senior classmen continued to condescend towards them in the halls between classes and on the paths between the various Academy buildings. Of course, they still spent most of their time segregated from the rest of the Academy, their time outside of class spent with only their SNAP staffs and each for company.

No, it wasn't the tasks that were wearing people out…it was the ongoing nature of SNAP. It. Didn't. End! The constant pressure, the physical demands, the stress of having Vexnar, Buhras or Kethnor barking orders, giving criticisms or generally telling them that they had to work harder if they wanted to stay at the Academy, all of it was contributing to the strain the cadets were feeling. The movie night put on by the Antares Sector junior-classmen had helped, but it had come with its own cost.

Actually, the junior-classmen were probably the only people at the Academy who were trying to make life bearable for the lower-classmen. Not openly, of course. No, out in the open, they gave the lower-classmen the same looks as the mids and the seniors…that same combination of amusement, distaste and pity. And they weren't allowed in the Brute Squad corridor…nobody was except Brute Squad and the Brute Squad SNAP staff.

On the other hand, that didn't always stop the juniors.

He wasn't sure if it had happened before or after the movie night, but Malespere could remember being woken up in the middle of the night by a boy he didn't recognize. It had taken him several minutes to realize that the boy was speaking to him, and that he was holding something out to Malespere in one outstretched hand. It took a couple more minutes for him to realize that the object was in fact a small cheeseburger, and that the boy was telling Malespere that it would get better, much better. Exhausted, Malespere had simply gulped down the burger, thanked the junior-classman, then fallen back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next day, he was sure that he'd imagined the visit until he heard Baxter saying that somebody had brought him a slice of pizza. He'd asked Kumari if anything similar had happened to her, and she'd admitted that she'd been brought a donut two nights before. (She also expressed her annoyance that it hadn't been served on a silver platter, as befitting her social status.)

The junior-classmen aside, Malespere was wearing out. They all were. Gallium had forgotten to dodge the hole in the floor, falling through again and broking his leg. Veksai had torn ligaments during one of their afternoon runs and Quaterman had broken her foot. The Academy infirmary had healed all those injuries within an hour or two, but that didn't change the fact that they were tiring out, stressing out and just plain wearing out.

The effect wasn't limited to the cadets, either. They'd seen one of the other lower-classmen squads doing punishment fitness training after one of their staff flipped out over a relatively tiny mistake, something that even the picky SNAP staff members would normally care about. Two days later, they'd been learning some Andorian aerobics moves with Vexnar when the Andorian had had a small outburst of his own.

"No, no NO!" he had hissed, stalking over to Baxter and glaring at the slightly overweight human, "The x'vixxinithix movement is fluid, graceful! You are…you are…I do not know what you are doing, but it is not graceful!"

"Hey, I've been driving this body since I was born, and this is as graceful as it gets!" Baxter objected.

"No, move your arms like so!" Vexnar said, trying again to demonstrate the movement to Baxter, "The point is to bring your arm around so your knife slices your opponent's vital arteries; it is a beautiful, deadly move!"

"I, like, don't even have a knife," Baxter objected.

"Neither do I, and that is perhaps a good thing right now!" Vexnar snapped.

He'd moved down the line to where Veksai was flailing his arms around, looking like he was trying to direct air traffic.

"No, no, NO!" Vexnar snapped, "Haven't you ever killed anybody in a knife fight before?"

"Um…no…" Veksai said slowly.

"None of us have," Gallium pointed out, "We're only like, 18 Standard years old,"

"Speak for yourselves," Veksai muttered.

"You…have never…killed…"

Vexnar's eyes had darted around the group, growing more and more frustrated, until, finally…

"ARRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" The Andorian screamed and bolted into a run. The cadets watched, shocked, as he started chasing after a small, black squirrel. Chittering in alarm, the squirrel attempted to dart up the nearest tree, but Vexnar was too quick. In one, fluid motion he'd grabbed the squirrel and brought it to his mouth. There was an alarmed squeak, the crunch of bone and a gulp. A moment later, Vexnar was again standing at the front of the group, wiping blood off his chin.

"Delicious," he said, "And if you do not master this move, you are next!"

As Malespere drifted from memory to memory, Dr. Tulson was fitting the data chip into the receptacle port in his podium. He almost hated what he was about to do, but this sleeping-through-class thing was really getting ridiculous.

He activated the LCARS2 Media Player, selected the audio file in question, activated the room's audio system and pressed 'play'.

'ooooooooooooom Do'!  
paaaaarHaaaaaaaa' ech maaS!  
SoooooooooooooH choooooooH laaaaaaH!

Instantly, every student in the hall snapped to full alertness. Some even jumped out of their seats, their hands reaching for soap, razors or PT cloths that weren't there as the hated morning wake-up music blasted through the room.

Tulson killed the playback as soon as it was evident he had regained their attention.

"Sorry everybody," he said. He stopped for a moment, "Actually, no. I'm not, really. By the way, did you know that that song has been used to wake up military cadets, at one institution or another, for over 350 years? Granted, they only translated it into Klingon about 30 years ago."

Everybody stared back at him.

"You know, we professors hate SNAP just as much as you cadets do," he sighed, "No, it's true," he assured them, noticing the looks of disbelief, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to teach you people anything in the shape you're in? Academically, this whole month is a waste! Even those of you who are awake in class are too exhausted to retain anything, and the rest of you are practically comatose!" he started rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Another example of military stupidity. No, they couldn't just put you through a proper fitness routine and give you an orientation day. Nooo, they have to put you through this ridiculous rite of passage. Did you know that in the old United States, the first-year cadets suffered for their entire first year? I suppose I should be thankful that the Federation mentality is closer to some of the more, shall we say, relaxed nations, eh?"

The cadets were still staring at him. Was this still a temporal physics course, or had they slept right through physics and into history?

Tulson's tirade was interrupted by the bell.

"Homework, and I know you have mandatory study time to do it so don't bother trying to tell me that your SNAP staff won't allow it, has been transmitted to your data padds. See you tomorrow,"

"AAAANNDDDDD…PLAY BALL!" Buhras shouted, chopping her arm down and giggling.

"GO! Run, you filthy p'taks!" Kethnor shouted, "Run like your lives depend on it! Which they do!"

"Which they do!" Vexnar echoed.

"GET HIM!" Baxter snapped, throwing a ball at one of the opposing cadets.

"I'm hit!" Quarterman cried.

"Igor!" Malespere called, "The blond guy! NOW!"

They both threw balls. Malespere's missed, but Igor's shot winged the boy in the side of the head.

"HEY!" one of the other SNAP staff members called, "No head shots!"

"Weaklings!" Kethnor called back, "Have you no will to fight!"

"Don't you go using that as an excuse to start breaking my cadets, Kethnor!" the other junior-classman, a black human, shouted back.

"Weaklings," Kethnor said again, "Very well. Brute Squad, do not aim for the head! We will play this according to weakling rules,"

"Who decided that dodgeball was a professional, military-style game, anyway?" Veksai complained, ducking as one of their opponents targeted him.

"Screw professionalism!" Igor shouted back.

Another ball slammed into the back of Veksai's head. He saw stars for a few moments, then shook his head and decided that Igor was right.

"AHHHH!" Kumari wailed, running daintily across their half of the playing field, arms covering her head as foam balls flew past, "They're after meeeee!"

At the sidelines, Vexnar slapped his hand over his face in a far-too-human gesture.

"That's sure a group of winners you've got there," junior-classman Beano-Marine, SNAP staff for Rigel Sector, said.

"Be silent, or I will eviscerate you," Vexnar grubled.

"C'mon, Brute Squad!: Buhras called out, "Send these Rigellian slugs packing!"

"Is that who we're playing against?" Fastocheni asked, snagging two foam balls up off the ground, "I thought we were playing Risa Sector,"

"Shut up and give Kodene your balls!" Bizkit snapped. The tiny girl was easily dodging the enemy's shots.

"Give him my what?" Fastocheni stopped, stared at her in surprise, and was promptly struck by no fewer than 4 enemy balls.

Bizkit, not bothering to answer, grabbed the two foam balls he had been holding along with the ones that had struck him. She threw them all at Kodene, the large, squid-like alien snagging them with his tentacles and firing them across the border at the Rigel Sector cadets. (Decker Squad, actually.)

The game was quickly over. Surprising, Brute Squad had won, sending Decker Squad running home with their tails between their legs. (Literally, in a few cases.)

As the loosing team, Decker Squad had the honour of doing 30 push-ups, 50 sit-ups and 20 squats.

As the winning team, Brute Squad had the honour of doing 30 push-ups, 50 sit-ups and 20 squats.

"One more week," Gallium muttered to himself as they began the jog back to Fort Pike.

"One more week!" Mecablox said loudly, walking up and down the Brute Squad corridor, "You have only one more week until the SNAP Survival Challenge!"

Brute Squad was seated in their corridor, listening attentively to their Squad Leader as he spoke. Seated, in this case, meant that they were leaning up against the walls in a sitting positing, but with no seats underneath them. Legs were quickly becoming sore from attempting to hold the somewhat uncomfortable position.

"You will be competing against all of the other lower-classmen Squads, one from each Sector," Mecablox went on, Deputy Drain following him, "And they will all be trying to win. Will you?"

"YES, MR. MECABLOX!" the cadets shouted.

"Good. We will continue to prepare you throughout this week. But first, I wanted to let you know who the staff has chosen as your Squad Captain for the Challenge,"

Ears perked up and the cadets exchanged glances. Squad Captain? They needed a Squad Captain?

"You need a Squad Captain," Mecablox explained, almost as if reading their minds, "because the nature of the Survival Challenge will require teamwork, strategy and planning. We have been teaching you teamwork, and you will learn some strategy this weekend. But you must also have a chain of command, and a leader to guide you through the Challenge!"

Baxter had a smug look on his face. Bizkit, sitting across from him, assumed that Baxter thought he would be put in charge. (She also vowed to quit right then and there if that was the case.) Gallium, being somewhat less cynical, figured that Baxter was feeling overly confident about their chances for the Challenge. Unknown to either of them, Baxter had just released what was, in his opinion, one damn fine ripper of a fart, and was feeling especially pleased with himself.

Veksai, trying hard to ignore the screaming pain in his legs and the foul odour in his nose, was reasonably sure it wouldn't be him. He hadn't distinguished himself in any way, other than his ability to tear ligaments. He was far too concerned with trying to figure out who would be put in charge. He didn't know his fellow cadets very well yet, but was very sure that some of them had no business leading a little old lady across the street. So who would he end up having to obey for this mysterious Survival Challenge? Would it be Igor, the slightly bumbling Russian? Kodene, the squid-thing that never seemed to speak? Gallium the nervous Bolian? Derok, the obnoxious Tellarite?

"We have been watching you all carefully," Vexnar was saying, his eyes narrowed, and we have determined that one of you may…MAY have what it takes to lead the Squad,"

Now everybody was paying rapt attention.

"Mr. Malespere, you will be Squad Captain," Mecablox said, without further pre-amble, "By the way, you may all stand up now,"

There were groans as the cadets straightened their legs. Bahred, Fastocheni and Kumari moved immediately to congratulate Malespere, Baxter hurried straight for the washroom and Veksai let out a breath of relief. Malepere seemed like a competent fellow. He could handle things as well as anybody else.

One less thing to worry about.

The next morning, (which found, mysteriously enough, the Antares Sector Flag fluttering in the breeze over the Spock Library and cadet Wind looking extremely tired, almost as though she had missed sleep) they were awoken to the sound of a song few of them recognized, in a language that sounded a lot like the Andorian curses they'd heard Vexnar throwing around. (It was in fact 'K'thlexxix Vix', which roughly translated to 'Somebody Killed Me'. It was one of Vexnar's favourites.) As soon as the cadets were dressed, Deputy Drain marched them outside, where he instructed Malespere to start the morning exercises.

"Just take them around the campus," Drain instructed him, lifting a hind leg to scratch behind his floppy ear, "And watch out for…OH! Squirrel!"

Drain immediately dropped to all fours and took off after said squirrel, barking happily. (Luckily, the squirrel managed to escape.)

Malespere started the run, Drain catching up easily. He wasn't really surprised that he'd been picked for Squad Captain. The SNAP staff had been dropping little hints for the past few days that something was coming up. Now he just had to figure out who he wanted as his second in command.

"OK, M'Kr'gr and Bahred, you're gonna be my 2ICs," Malespere said. The Squad had been granted time to hold a small meeting after breakfast. After, of course, the post-run, pre-breakfast 10-minute shower and change.

"Don't Starfleet people usually only have one second-in-command," Gallium asked, "And isn't he or she usually called 'Number One'?"

"Um," Wind raised her hand, "If the person is second in command, shouldn't they be Number Two?"

Kodene wrapped a tentacle around Wind's mouth while Veksai chuckled.

"Whatever," Malespere said, "Look, I want the extra input, and I think both of these guys have what it takes,"

"Body odour?" Baxter chuckled, pointed at M'Kr'gr.

"Claws," the reptilian boy said, extending his middle finger (and claw) in Baxter's direction.

Shortly afterward, Malespere marched them, under the direction of Team Leader Buhras, to the central Parade Ring that surrounded Khitomer building like a ring. Mecablox, Vexnar, Kethnor and Drain were already waiting. A part of the lawn bordering the ground had been cut to resemble the Mutara Sector logo, either by Mutara Sector's junior-classmen or by lower-classmen taken out on a late-night prank by their junior-classmen.

On the flat terrain, several strange structures were in various stages of contruction. The one closest to them appeared to be complete, but none of the cadets were able to get a very good look at it, what with their eyes being forbidden from moving.

"Squad dish…smish!" Deputy Drain called, the words coming out slightly mangled through his large canine teeth.

The cadets followed their SNAP staff to the nearest structure. Now that they could get a closer look at it, they could see that it was a hollow box, with walls made of a strange, mesh-like metal. Sparkling technological components glimmered in the sunlight, but nobody could quite figure out what the bizarre thing was supposed to be. It was definitely big, easily 100 meters to a size. Gallium quickly counted the structures, and came to conclusion that there was probably one going up for each Sector. Or for each lower-classmen Squad.

"Do any of you know what this?" Mecablox demanded, gesturing at the box.

"The box your mom's underwear came in?" Baxter chuckled.

Mecablox shot Kethnor a glance.

"Six inches!" the diminutive Klingon intoned, a dark smile on his face.

The cadets, with a groan, immediately dropped to the ground, laying flat on their backs and lifting their heels, legs extended, six inches off the ground.

"This…is…not…an exercise…for…tall…people!" Veksai grunted.

"No…shit!" Fastocheni agreed.

"Your mom!' Baxter giggled, apparently unaware or uncaring that he was the cause of their current situation. Igor waited until the SNAP staff wasn't looking, then smacked him upside the head.

"Everybody up!" Mecablox said sharply. The cadets and staff jumped to their feet, though Drain took a few moments to chase his tail before rising.

"Now then, does anybody know what this is?" he asked again.

"I believe," Kumari said primly, "that it is an outdoor holodeck3. My father, the king, had one setup during my own royal confirmation."

"Oh really?" Derok asked, standing up on this tip-toes. The others simply rolled their eyes.

"Ms. Kumari is correct," Mecablox said.

"That's Princess Kumari," Kumari muttered, too softly to be heard.

"It is a holo-patio," Vexnar hissed, crossing his arms angrily, "Yes, I too believe that is a stupid name,"

"Well, if holo-decks are on ships, and ships have decks," Derok went on, "And if outdoor places have patios, then-"

"Shut up," Vexnar hissed.

"Yes, Team Leader!" Derok said, "I'll shut up! I'm shutting up right now! I'll do the best job of shutting up that you've ever seen!"

While Derok yammered on and Vexnar turned an even deeper shade of blue, Buhras had approached one corner of the holo-patio and detached a large control padd. She tapped at it. Suddenly, there was a veritable storm of holographic sparks, then the interior of the box suddenly appeared to take on the appearance of the bridge of a Federation starship.

"Oh, that is too cool!" Malespere breathed. The cadets started walking slowly around the holo-patio, noticing that the view always made it seem as though there were simply walking along the bridge, with their backs to one wall. They could always see what was happening inside the holo-patio, but their view was never obstructed by the walls that must be visible to anybody inside.

"How do they do that?" Veksai murmered, "Are the holograms actually opaque in only one direction, or are they actually using real-time holo-images and projectors to recreate-"

"These holo-patios have been specially outfitted for spectators," Mecablox continued, cutting off Veksai's string of pointless techno-babble, "But to the user, it is the same as using an actual holo-deck,"

"Hey, Vexnar!" Buhras called with a laugh, "I found your 'Family Meal' holo-program!'

"Really?"

She tapped a button and the starship bridge vanished, the holo-patio showing instead the interior of a large, Spartan building. The furniture was large and boxy, with spikes on every surface. Nearly 30 Andorians of various ages were dining. Vexnar quickly entered the holo-patio, the cadets noticing that as far as they could tell, he was part of the simulation. As soon as he sat, the holo-characters simulating his family began to move and speak.

"Pass the zenthar lung," one middle-aged Andorian asked.

"Where is the spleen pie?" demanded another.

"I have decided to join the diplomatic corps," a young male added.

Faster than the eye could see, a knife suddenly flew across the table and lodged itself in his chest, pinning him to the chair as his blood (and his life) drained out onto the floor.

"Who dared to kill my tertiary son?" one of the older Andorians demanded.

"I, Xenzar, your primary cousin!" a young female declared, "Diplomacy is a coward's path, not fitting to a warrior of the 12th Hive!"

"He had demanded my permission yesterday," the first Andorian said angrily, "And I had granted it! There was no need to…" He trailed off, noticing only then that another wicked, serrated knife had appeared in his abdomen. He gave a soft wheeze, then fell back.

"To attempt diplomacy is bad another," an old, grizzled Andorian said from the head of the table, another knife ready for the throwing, "But to actually grant permission? The dishonour! Excuse me, I must mutilate the corpses quickly. Perhaps we will have fresh spleen pie for dessert!"

"This spleen is not fresh?" Vexnar demanded, lifting a plate of…something. Some of the other family members looked slightly embarrassed, others were beginning to look very, very angry.

"Sometimes," a middle-aged female said, "one must use canned spleen…"

"CANNED SPLEEN?!4"

The Brute Squad cadets watched in horror as Vexnar's family erupted into a full-fledged battle to the death. Table knifes were used initially as weapons, at least until the Andorians had the chance to grab some of the spears and swords off of the walls. (Veksai had assumed they were there for decoration. Apparently that was not the case.)

After several moments of bloodbath, Vexnar emerged from the holo-patio. His left arm was missing from below the elbow, bluish blood spurting onto the ground. In his other hand, he held his severed forearm. Yet he looked happier than he had in several weeks.

"You disabled the safety protocols," he said to Buhras, pointing his severed hand in her direction.

"Yup," she shrugged.

"Thank you. That was quite a bit of fun," Vexnar wheezed, right before passing out from blood loss.

"Medic to the Parade Ring, Antares Sector," Mecablox said calmly, tapping his comm-badge.

"Andorians sure are f**ked up people!' Baxter said, eyes wide as he stared at the carnage still being displayed by the holo-patio.

"They're not so bad," Veksai said. Igor, Baxter and even Kodene shot him surprised looks.

"Well, at least it looked like they were having fun," he shrugged.

Once they'd had a chance to see how the holo-patio worked (and once Vexnar had returned from the infirmary, arm re-attached) they were unceremoniously loaded up onto a runabout5 and taken…somewhere. Looking out the window, Bahred knew they were still on Earth, but he had no idea if they were still close to San Francisco, or if they'd left North America entirely. Malespere had tried asking Team Leader Buhras where they were going, but she would only giggle and say that they were heading out for some 'training'. Kethnor added that if Bahred did not stop asking annoying human questions, the entire Squad would be running back to the Academy. As much as Bahred doubted that they would make good on that threat, he decided that it would probably be a good idea to obey anyway. Next to him, M'Kr'gr was picking at his scales.

"We should talk strategy," he said, after a few minutes.

"Gee, what an excellent idea, skinny!" Vexnar said in a mocking tone. "After all, you only have zero clues as to what kind of challenge you will be facing. What an excellent time to plan strategy!"

M'Kr'gr growled at Vexnar, baring his fangs. 'Skinny' was the nickname the staff had taken to using around him…ironic, considering he was easily half-again as wide as the other cadets.

"Ignore him," Buhras said with a grin, "It's never too early to start planning." She gave Vexnar and Kethnor a shove. "What do you say we head up front, boys?"

Baring his teeth at M'Kr'gr one last time, Vexnar followed the other two staff members out.

"Anybody else notice that those three have been getting a lot less…evil, lately?" Quarterman asked.

"Oh, totally," Bizkit agreed.

"What planet are you on?" Igor grumbled.

"I agree!" Derok shouted, jumping to his feet, "Wait, what were you talking about?"

"OK, so, like, strategy," Malespere said, turning to face the group, "Let's get some ideas going, people!"

"Little Boy Blue has a point," Fastocheni said, using the Squad's secret nickname for Vexnar, "I mean, we don't know what this challenge is, right?"

"It doesn't matter," M'Kr'gr said, "Some things can be planned anyway. Such as, how shall we divide the Squad? What strengths and weaknesses do we have?"

"Veksai's really good at being old," Quarterman pointed out with a grin.

"And you're really good at being a total bi-"

"Oh, you know you want some!"

"Hey, shut up!" Malespere called.

"You shut up!" Nuhville shouted.

"We all get to shut up!" Baxter giggled happily.

The cadets stared at him for a moment, then broke into giggles.

Once the moment had passed, Malespere was just about the resume their discussion, when they felt the jolt of the runabout landing on solid ground.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" Buhras shouted, "Let's go!"

Rushing for the door, the cadets swung past the small craft's cargo area, grabbing their training phaser rifles from the rack. Exiting the runabout, they found themselves standing in a clearing. Forest surrounded them on all sides, with towering mountains visible in the background.

"What are we doing out here?" Derok wondered as they formed up. The cadets around him winced, expecting some kind of retribution from the staff. Instead, Mecablox simply answered, calmly:

"We are here for some training. From a specialist."

"Which group do we have now?"

"Uhhh…" the uniformed man consulted his pass, "Antares Sector, Colonel."

"Starfleeters," the colonel said, his lip curling in disgust, "Even worse, Starfleet cadets. I think I'm going to puke!"

"Of course, sir,"

"How many more Sectors after this one?"

"Uhhh… a lot, sir,"

"Blast it, O'Neal! We have better things to do and more important enemies to blast!"

"Perhaps, sir, if you hadn't suggested to Captain Beck that Starfleet Academy didn't know a thing about combat training…"

"SHUT UP, Lt. Colonel!"

"Of course, Colonel."

The SNAP staff was looking worried.

They'd been waiting for about five minutes. The cadets were formed up, with Malespere front and center and Bahred and M'Kr'gr behind. Nobody was sure what it was the SNAP staff was waiting for, but they must have seen it coming, as all five of them suddenly turned, gave Malespere a quick nod, then rushed back into the runabout.

Quiet murmurs broke out between the cadets. What was going on? What sort of training was this?  
"STOP TALKING, MAGGOTS!"

Three weeks of SNAP instinct kicked in as each cadet immediately shut up and straitened up. Well, Nuhvil and Derok each needed an extra elbow in the side to remind them, but still.

A tall, slim man sporting a large, black moustache emerged from the bushes, wearing green-patterned camouflage fatigues. He sported an odd-looking helmet, which he'd covered with leaves and branches in an attempt to further improve his ability to blend in. Two other men and one woman, similarly dressed, followed. The first man marched stiffly up to Malespere and came to attention, slamming his foot against the ground so hard that his entire body quivered.

"Well, maggot, what do you do when approached by an officer?" he demanded.

"Huh? OH!" Malespere quickly saluted.

The man ignored him, walking past and surveying the first row of cadets.

"Disgusting!" he spat, "The only thing worse than a Starfleet officer…is a Starfleet cadet!" His voice took on a mocking tone, "Oh, please don't blow us up, Mr. Alien, sir! Let's talk about our problems! Ohhh, look! A spatial anomaly! Let's go study it! Oh no, the galaxy is about to explode, let's all grab our loved ones and have a nice, fluffy group hug!"

He spat again, literally this time.

"I am," he declared, "Colonel Martin Lazlo6, Federation Marines! And let me tell you, the smartest thing any of you maggots could do right now would be to quit this

sloppy Starfleet crap and join the a real fighting unit! In fact, Corporal Sheppard has a pile of Starfleet resignation forms, and O'Neal here was good enough to bring some Marine applications. I'm confident that by the end of the day, you'll see the wisdom of joining the marines!"

Behind him, the other three marine were exchange sceptical glances.

"DROP AND GIVE ME 50 PUSH-UPS!" Lazlo screamed.

From the safety of the runabout, the SNAP staff watched as Lazlo started punishing the crap out of their cadets.

"What does he think he's doing?" Buhras snapped, "Those are OUR lowers! Nobody gets to push them around but us!"

The push-ups had been replaced with sit-ups, then squats.

"Has anybody else noticed the way his moustache vibrates when he shouts?" Mecablox observed, "Sort of like a chipmunk…during an epileptic seizure."

"I agree with Adi," Kethnor said, watching as one of the marines (Copeland?) leaned right into Derok's chubby, Tellarite face and commenced screaming, "Nobody grinds down my lower-classmen but me!"

"Marines," Vexnar snarled, "They disgust me!'

"Really?" Drain asked, wagging his tail, "I thought you'd like the killing, and the maiming, and all that stuff,"

"Killing and maiming are an art form!" Vexnar said, "And these…marines…have no appreciation for the subtlety of a proper maiming!"

Lazlo and his men were now in the process of breaking Brute Squad into two teams.

"Exactly what are they supposed to be learning?" Drain asked, sniffing at some interesting odours in the carpet.

"If this keeps up," Buhras said, watching as Lazlo suddenly assigned more push-ups, "They're going to learn just how much they miss us,"

"LOWER!" Lazlo screamed, bending down to better scream at Kumari, "I want to see that little brown nose of yours TOUCH THE F**KING GROUND!"

"I miss Ms. Buhras," Kumari whimpered, straining to complete the push-up.

He jumped up, then returned to the front of the group.

"Team attacks!" he shouted, "Are the most elementary part of any sort of attack force! You must be able to work as a team, to anticipate your enemy's movements and to avoid shooting your own people! Copeland, Sheppard! Reference: dead oak tree! TEAM! TEAM! TEAM!

The two marines immediately dropped to the ground. The female, Sheppard, starting shooting her phaser rifle at the indicated tree, while Copeland jumped up, darted a few feet ahead, then dropped. He immediately began firing, while Sheppard jumped up and darted forward. They continued to leap-frog until Sheppard was close enough to throw a photon grenade at the tree, which promptly exploded. The two marines quickly secured the area then took up defensive positions on either side.

"That is precision!" Lazlo declared loudly, "That is discipline! That is something that Starfleet is far too wishy-washy to give you!"

"I think I like wishy-washy," Derok groaned.

"IF YOU CAN STILL WHINE, YOU"RE NOT SUFFERING ENOUGH!" Lazlo barked.

Under Lazlo's 'tutelage', the cadets spent the remainder of the day running through trees, shooting at each other, crawling through the muck and in generally wearing their already tired bodies out even more. Malespere really didn't see how these ancient ground tactics would help them with a holographic survival challenge, especially considering that that vast majority of the squad really wasn't getting the hang of it. Kodene somehow kept getting itself turned around, Baxter got lost in the trees, Bizkit had snagged the back of her uniform on a low branch and been stuck hanging there for nearly an hour before anybody had found her and Veksai had 'accidentally' stunned Baxter and Derok at least twice. If nothing else, he concluded, it was giving everybody a chance to get used to having himself in charge of the squad, with Bahred and M'Kr'gr acting as Team Seniors.

Finally, after a 'cool-down session', which seemed just as exhausting as their actual exercises, they were allowed to return to the runabout.

"That's right…go crawling back to mommy!" Lazlo shouted from behind them, "Wimps, all of you! MAGGOTS!"

He spun back to O'Neal.

"Who's the next batch?"

"Uh, Ganjitsu Sector…Sulu Squad," O'Neal replied, checking his padd.

"I WILL DESTROY THEM!" Lazlo vowed.

"Uh, riiight."

"Sir," Corporal Copeland spoke up, "The cadets are gone. You can stop acting now."

Lazlo looked confused.

"Acting?"

"Look at them, don't they look sweet?" Buhras said softly, giggling slightly.

Vexnar and Kethnor looked at her like she was crazy. The Brute Squad cadets had piled back into the runabout, trailing mud and bits of foliage behind them, then proceeded to fall asleep in their seats as Mecablox and Drain ran the craft through its pre-flight check7. Kodene had slipped out of its seat with a slimy PLOP, its tentacles now unconsciously twining around the seat supports. Nuhville and Baxter were snoring loudly, while Wind was drooling on Derok's shoulder.

"They have performed…adequately, so far," Kethnor said grudgingly, "I have heard that Altair Sector has had no end of problems with their lowers."

"Is that why they renamed their lower-classmen squad 'No-Name Squad'?" Vexnar asked, interested.

"Yup,"

"Less than a week," Vexnar said, sounding almost relieved, "Then I can end this SNAP foolishness and return to my studies. Did you know that I need a Xeno-Biology credit from the Academy before the Andorian Society of Killing will credit me with my Killing and Maiming certification?"

"That's all well and good…for a security specialist," Buhras said snidely, "I'm falling behind in Temporal Mechanics. And I know that Drain is on the verge of failing his second language credit,"

"You are all weaklings," Kethnor said slowly, "But I also am having difficulties with my Warp Field Mechanics class,"

"Shut up," Buhras grunted.

"You shut up!"

"No, YOU shut up!"

Bickering, the SNAP staff left the passenger section and headed up to the cockpit, unaware that more than one pair of ears had overheard their conversation.

Sunday was fairly quiet. Or so it seemed, anyway. After running through the bushes, crawling through the mud and wading through a swamp or two with Colonel Lazlo, the standard SNAP routine suddenly felt like a holiday. Well, Sunday technical was a holiday, what with four whole hours between breakfast and lunch where the cadets could actually do anything they wanted.

Almost.

"I really wish this stupid thing worked right now," Veksai muttered, glaring at the monitor screen for his computer terminal and trying to stretch the aches and pains out of his lanky frame. Buhras had disabled most of the amenities in their rooms weeks ago, and kept the isolinear chips that would reactive them in one of her pockets. "At least then I could check the frickin' news!"

"Huuugghhh," Nuhvil groaned, rolling over on his bed but not waking. Veksai really had no understanding of just how any sentient being could sleep as much as Nuhvil did.

Across the hall, Gallium and Kodene had dug out a deck of playing cards. Kumari and Bizkit were trying to get caught up on their ironing, Quarterman and her roommate, a girl named Ganderouge were arguing about something that sounded girly and Baxter and Derok were trying to convince Wind that a hydrospanner could be used as a toothbrush.

Fastocheni made his way around the highway, that ever-so-annoying dividing line that forced the cadets to walk the entire length of the corridor every time they wanted to go somewhere, and dropped by Veksai's room.

"Have you seen M'Kr'gr?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's with Malespere and Bahred," Veksai replied, giving his monitor one last, half-hearted poke, "They're planning more strategy, I guess,"

"Yeah, so," Fastocheni stood in the door, looking uncomfortable.

"Is there something else?" Veksai asked, watching with a combination of amusement and annoyance as the younger boy shifted his weight.

"What's it like?" Fastocheni blurted out, taking a seat on Veksai's bed.

"Huh?"

"Being half Orion," he explained, "That's gotta be, like, different, right? Did it make it harder to get into the Academy?"

"Uh, you're living with a giant lizard that happens to have fangs and claws, and you're asking me about being different?" Veksai asked, one eyebrow raised, "Not to mention having a giant squid as a neighbour…"

"Well, I mean," Fastocheni looked flustered, "Well, M'Kr'gr and Kodene are, like, obviously different, right? I mean, if you hadn't told us you were half Orion, I wouldn't have even known,"

Veksai looked at his greenish skin.

"Yeah, a lot of people just tell me I shouldn't have eaten the seafood," he joked, "But aside from this overwhelming urge to kill people and steal their stuff, being Orion8 isn't all that bad,"

Fastocheni's jaw dropped.

"I'm kidding," Veksai said dryly.

"Well, I mean, you see all this stuff in the news, like with the Orion Syndicate and all that…"

"I promise not to kill you, or pay to have you killed," Veksai chuckled.

"Uh…good…" Fastocheni fidgeted for a moment, "Hey, did you hear?"

He looked at Veksai expectantly.

Veksai stared back.

"Hear what?" Veksai finally asked.

"Oh! Sorry. Did you hear that we lost Zenith and Val'gural?"

"What? Really?" Veksai jumped out of his chair, "Why? When did this happen?"

"Zenith just quit, decided he really didn't want to be here anymore," Fastocheni said, "And Val'gural is joining the marines,"

"Really?" Veksai's eyebrows had almost reached his head, "He liked that happy-hardcore-horses**t that Lazlo put us through?"

"I think he liked the fact that most of that stuff is done with hand signals, and without speaking." Fastocheni explained, "He figures he can advance faster in the Marines than he can in Starfleet,"

"I guess that makes sense," Veksai mused. Being a Barudan, and totally mute, Val'gural's communication skills really weren't the best. Most of the time, their attempts to understand him had turned into an impromptu round of charades.

"Anyway, Drain has a couple of junior-classmen helping them load up their stuff right now.

"BRUTE SQUAD! IN THE CORRIDOR! NOW!"

"Here we go again," Veksai sighed.

After lunch, the cadets were marched down to one of the many buildings that dotted the campus. This one, as it turned out, housed several indoor Olympic-sized swimming pools. (Along with saltwater, swamp-water and mud pools for some species.) After swimming a few laps and warming up, they were suddenly told to get back into uniform. Expecting to return to Fort Pike, or head out for more training, they were taken offguard when they were told to get back into the pool.

"But we'll get our uniforms wet!" Kumari said, "How…tacky!"

"Oh, so if you're stranded on some alien planet, you're going to get changed into your swimsuit before you dive into the water to escape the giant alien squid-thing trying to kill you?" Buhras snapped, "No offense, Kodene,"

"None taken," the giant squid-alien said, "But you should know that I could catch humans more easily in the water than on land,"

Buhras chuckled.

"GET IN THE F**KING POOL!" she snapped.

Unsurprisingly, Kodene was as efficient as ever in the water. The rest of the cadets, unused to swimming while fully dressed, floundered somewhat. When the exercise finally ended and they pulled themselves out of the water, they resembled a pack of wet rats.

Once finished with the pool, the cadets were summarily marched off to first aid training, followed by supper, a run around the campus and, finally, sleep.

There was a definite and growing sense of excitement as SNAP entered its final week, and not just on the part of the lower-classmen. With the prospect of the Survival Challenge looming ahead, all of the Academy Sectors were eager to see their lower-classean Squad emerge victorious, a sense shared by the lowers and by their SNAP staffs. Evening time that had previously been dedicated to extra physical training or other forms of SNAP torment (such as change parades or bed parades9) were now dedicated to practicing various techniques that might come in handy during the Survival Challenge. Monday night saw several sectors sneaking down to the holo-patios…the Survival program hadn't been loaded yet, but the cadets were able to use the devices to simulate different training facilities and locations. Campus Security put a stop to this practice as quickly as possible, leaving the cadets to find other ways to practice. Of course, some Squads snuck out to the holo-patios in the middle of the night anyway.

Tuesday night, Malespere, under the direction of Team Leader Kethnor, had marched the squad to the Montgomery Scott Engineering Building, a gleaming metal-and-glass affair that primarily held laboratories and the Starship Operations department.

"We have learned additional details regarding the Survival Challenge," Kethnor said once the arrived, "We have learned that each Squad will be undertaking the same challenge,"

"Only fair," Quarterman grunted.

""And, because Starfleet officers are expected to posses a certain a degree of versatility, the Challenge will involve a number of different tasks." Kethnor explained, "In fact, the junior-classmen of each Sector was responsible for designing a portion of the challenge. I, of course, cannot tell you which part of the Challenge was designed by our own Antares Sector juniors, but if you, by chance, see them before the Challenge, you may want to ask."

He paused for a moment.

"You must therefore know, weakling humans, that while physical fitness plays a major role in this Challenge, it is not the only aspect of your training to date that will be challenged. There will be technical challenges, ethical challenges and situations that require quick thinking and quick responses. That is why tonight we will be reviewing some of the basic engineering procedures you should have been taught during your Starship Operations 101 class,"

Veksai, Bahred and Fastocheni nodded, as did a few other cadets. The majority exchanged somewhat confused glances.

"I think I slept through that class," Nuhville said.

"Likely," Kethnor agreed. "Hence, the practice,"

After practicing basic operations for two hours, they were then marched to the Leonard McCoy Medical Center where, despite the unpleasant memories of their initial check-ups, the cadets spent another two hours with the EMH programs reviewing first aid procedures. Wednesday evening saw them sitting through two mind-numbing hours of tactics and team strategy briefings. (Malespere, Bahred and M'Kr'gr paid rapt attention, unlike the majority of the cadets.) Wednesday also saw them put through a fairly brutal physical workout, courtesy of all three Team Leaders, all three of whom reminded the Squad constantly that they were working to distinguish themselves in the competition. Both days also saw them practicing for the Entry Ceremony, where they would officially become students of the Academy.

Finally, it was Thursday evening.

"Less than 24 hours of SNAP left!" Bizkit exclaimed, practically vibrating on her feet.

"Thank God," Veksai said, leaning against one wall, "I just want this crap to be over with!"

"No more morning PT!" Baxter exclaimed.

"Well, less anyway," Team Leader Buhras said, stepping into the corridor, "Don't lean on the walls, they can hold themselves up!"

Veksai straightened.

"No more morning inspections!" Derok said happily.

"Well, fewer inspections," Buhras shrugged.

"No more change parades!" Nuhvil exclaimed.

"Who-hoo!" Buhras agreed, exchanging high-fives with the cadet.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Wind asked, "Are we going in the pool again?"

"Why would we-" Veksai started to ask, then stopped when he realized it was Wind speaking. (She had a way of asking strange questions.)

"No, what you do tonight is up to Mr. Malespere," Buhras said, "Oh, by the way, if any of you have holo-images10, give them here. The junior-classmen will be taking photos for you, if you want."

"Doesn't the holo-patio thing automatically record everything anyway?" Gallium asked as Veksai and several others went to find their imagers.

"It is traditional for the juniors to take images," Kethnor said as he and Vexnar came up behind Buhras.

"I'm gonna go and get Malespere," Buhras said, heading down the hall.

There was a moment of silence.

"I can hardly wait to see my parents!" Bizkit said, once it became evident that neither Team Leader was about to start shouting orders or commands, "I hope they're still able to make it!"

"Oops," Kethnor said, "I forgot! Buhras was to install this tonight, so that you might check on such things." He plugged an isolinear chip into the wall panel. With a chirp, a set of lights began blinking.

"The communications functions of your terminals have been enabled," he said.

Bizkit squealed with excitement and bolted for her room.

"You forgot?" Vexnar sneered.

"I forgot," Kethnor snarled, "Do you want to make something of it, Andorian?"

"I will kill you, Klingon!" Vexnar seethed.

"I will main and decapitate you!" Kethnor shot back.

"Uh, should we be worried?" Derok asked Veksai as the latter ducked into his room to check his messages.

"Naw, it's just how Klingons and Andorians do things," Veksai said, "This is practically pillow-talk!"

Both Kethnor and Vexnar stopped arguing and turned to fix very cold glares at the (yet junior) cadet.

"Um, no offense or anything," Veksai muttered, ducking into his room before they could assign push-ups or something.

"Wheeee!" Bizkit came hopping back out of her room, running the lengthy of the highway and dodging the gaping hole in the floor at the far end, "My parents are going to watch tomorrow!"

"Yeah, mine are coming too," Gallium said.

"Isn't it sweet," Vexnar said to Kethnor, "The weakling human parents are coming to watch their weakling spawn,"

"It is almost…cute," Kethnor said. His voice sounded disdainful, but there was a hint of a grin on his dark face.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"EEEEEKKKKKKKKKKK!"

Simultaneously, two shouts broke out from two different rooms. In seconds, Veksai and Kumari were back in the hall, looks of shock on their faces.

"MY PARENTS ARE COMING!?" Veksai exclaimed, a mix of amazement and disbelief on his face.

"MY PARENTS ARE COMING!?" Kumari screamed, a look of abject terror on her face.

"I don't get it," Malespere asked, "What's the big deal?"

"Well, it's just," Veksai looked embarrassed, "My parents live two systems over. It takes a couple of days to get here…and I don't think I even told them about the Survival Challenge,"

"Ok, one down," Malespere turned from Veksai to Kumari, "What's your story?"

Kumari looked even more embarrassed, surrounded as she was by the other Brute Squad cadets and the three Team Leaders.

"I, uh, never told my parents I was joining Starfleet," she muttered.11

"She's got me beat," Veksai said, raising his hands in mock surrender and moving back into the group.

"So, they obviously found out, right?" Quaterman said, "What's the big deal? You're a big girl now,"

"I'm also, like, heir to the throne!" Kumari protested.

"Really?" Baxter giggled, "I don't think you mentioned that,"

"Except for every minute-" Derok said.

"Of every day-" Quarterman added.

"Hey, shut up!" Kumari snapped, visibly upset.

"Yes, do shut up!" Kethnor ordered, "Family expectations can be…difficult to live with. On Qu'nos12, family structures are strict, family approval must be sought for most life decisions and punishments can range from exile to the removal of family titles,"

"On Andor-" Vexnar started.

"Yeah, they saw how Andorain families behave already, thank you," Buhras giggled.

"Do not force me to eviscerate you!" Vexnar shot back.

"OOhhhhh!" Kumari groaned, then ran for her room, ignoring the highway.

"I'll talk to her," Malespere said.

The remaining cadets exchanged looks. Obviously they'd said something wrong, but weren't sure what.

While Malespere was talking to Kumari, Bahred and M'Kr'gr once again went over the team assignments for the Survival Challenge, had the cadets double-check their equipment and finish up some of the last minute preparations. Halfway though, Malespere and Kumari re-emerged, Kumari looking somewhat better than before. Soon, it was time for bed.

"Good night, lower-classmen," Squad Leader Mecablox said, having popped in along with Deputy Drain to say goodnight, "Tomorrow, it will all be over. Sleep well!"

Despite the excitement brought on by the imminent end of SNAP and their official entry into the Academy, the cadets had no difficulty falling asleep. All too soon, they were awoken by the familiar crash of drums and singing voices of that bizarre wake-up music…

OOOOO Fooortuuunnnaaaaa!

Veeerruuut lunnna!

Staaaatu variaaabliliiiiiiiiiis!

"Woah, that's different," Bahred said to Malespere as he quickly shaved, "It sounds, like, as if actual people are singing, instead of raging Klingons."

"KLINGONS DO NOT RAGE!" Kethnor snarled from the hallway. He paused, then thought for a moment.

"Actually, yes we do. In fact, it is what we do best." he corrected himself, "Carry on!"

"Sounds Italian," Fastocheni observed as he and M'Kr'gr rushed out of their room and took their place in the corridor.

"Says the Latin Lover over here," Quarterman teased from down the hall, checking Bizkit's uniform over for lint. Fastocheni blew her a kiss.

"Enough clowning around!" Buhras snapped, "We're going light today, kids. Just a light jog. Don't want you worn out before the Challenge starts!"

As promised, Mecablox and Drain led the cadets (Malespere in the lead) through a relatively light jog around the campus, just enough to wake everybody up and get the blood moving. (As if blaring Italian Opera first thing in the morning didn't accomplish that.) Soon enough, the cadets were showered, dressed, inspected (in that order) and sent off to breakfast.

Later, as he sat in class, Gallium wondered just what chance they had of actually learning anything that morning. He looked around the lecture hall, in which he and 40 other 'Artsmen' were supposed to be studying the cultures of several key races in the Federation. He wasn't really sure why the EngOps (Engineering & Operations) and SciMed (Sciences & Medical) cadets kept calling them Artsmen; they were technically Command track. Which, Gallium reflected, made even less sense, since everybody training to be an officer was training to be in command of something. Perhaps the other cadets called them Artsmen because they were not studying for a science or engineering speciality, and were enrolled in a relatively easier course, much like the Arts students of Earth's 20th Century? A sort of tradition, going back hundreds of years and applying to generations of cadets who didn't have the drive or the intelligence for Engineering or Sciences?

Naw.13

Anyway, he certainly wasn't paying any attention to Professor Smern's Cultural Studies lecture. The Vulcan was going on in his dry monotone, explaining the illogic of SNAP and of the Survival Challenge. None of the lower-classmen cadets were arguing with him. With Smern, there really was no need. The man seemed to argue with himself, coming up with arguments, counter-arguments, explanations, questions, etc. The man's ability to argue with himself was impressive, but really left little chance for the cadets to become involved in the lesson.

Attempting again to get back to the point, Gallium really didn't think anybody was learning much of anything that morning. A few rows back, Nuhville was passed out and snoring. Next to him, Derok was trying to pay attention, but kept making little doodles of the Brute Squad cadets, in stick-figure form, being eaten by a giant alien that might have been a stick-figure version of M'Kr'gr. Baxter, a few rows forward, was staring at a pretty, blond female cadet with an expression that could only be described as 'late-teenage lust', and Gallium was willing to bet he knew exactly what Baxter was thinking about…and it sure as hell wasn't Cultural Studies.

Nope, there was no way anybody was learning anything that morning.

After lunch, Brute Squad gathered in their old Fort Pike corridor, affectionately known as the Sector Lines. The SNAP Countdown display showed 0 Days, 0 Hours, 30 Minutes to go. Instead of the standard cadet jumpsuit, they were dressed partially in field gear: the heavier boots and trousers used by Away Teams when visiting unknown or potentially hostile planets. Instead of the standard uniform jacket, they wore instead long-sleeved shirts decorated with the red-and-white14 Antares Sector colours. In addition, the cadets had appended their own designs: M'Kr'gr and Bahred had scrawled '2IC' on their shirts with thick, black ink, large 'A's had been scrawled across several backs, Baxter's shirt declared him to be 'Hard' and several shirts, including Veksai's and Kumari's declared them to be 'Brutes'. Malespere, though nobody could figure out why, had scrawled 'And that's how hard the rock pile is!' across the front of his shirt. As they finished positioning themselves next to their rooms, Squad Leader Mecablox stepped in, followed by Lt. Wellington, the commanding officer of Antares Sector.

"Brute Squad, Atten-tion!" Mecablox called.

As the cadets came to attention, Wellington became to walk slowly down the center of the corridor.

"Good afternoon, Brute Squad," he said.

"GOOD AFTERNOON, SIR!"

"Ready for the big event?"

"YES, SIR!"

"Are you ready," Wellington went on, his voice growing louder, "To go out there, and show the rest of this Academy what you're made of?"

"YES, SIR!"

"ARE YOU READY," Wellington shouted, "TO PASS THIS CHALLENGE AND END SNAP, ONCE AND FOR ALL?"

"YES SIR!" the cadets screamed.

"WHO ARE YOU?" he demanded.

"BRUTE SQUAD!"

"NOW GET OUT THERE, AND SHOW THEM WHAT YOU'VE GOT!"

They bolted for the door.

After quickly forming up outside Fort Pike, during which point some clever junior-classmen started playing 'The Final Countdown' through his dorm window, the cadets started jogging from Fort Pike to the Parade Ring around Khitomer building, and towards the waiting holo-patios. As they ran, they noticed that they were being joined by several other cadets, each wearing a red-and-white Antares Sector t-shirt. Gallium immediately recognized T'Henki and Meltan, the two Vulcans taking position on either side of the Squad. Maretan, Lafonge, Dril, Adeth and several other junior-classmen soon joined them. But several older cadets were likewise trickling in, falling in to either side of Brute Squad as they jogged down the road. Gallium recognized senior-classmen: Parami, the hulking Antares Sector Cadet Leader and mid-classman Noig, the Antares Sector Cadet Administrator. He could assume that the other cadets were likewise senior Antares Sector cadets, there to show their support for Brute Squad.

As he led the Squad, now surrounded by junior, mid and senior classmen, Malespere reflected on something they'd been told early on in SNAP: that everybody in the Sector had their eyes on Brute Squad. They were lower-classmen; they hadn't yet earned their place in the Sector and nobody knew just how many of them would actually make it though SNAP. And while they had been kept strictly segregated from the senior cadets, that didn't mean that the senior cadets hadn't been watching their every move, pumping their SNAP staff for news and gossip, trying to find out which cadets, if any, would be good additions to the Sector. Now, with the end of SNAP upon them and the lower-classmen on the verge of joining the rest of the Sector, it was time for the senior cadets to come out and support their lower-classmen.

As they entered the Parade Ring, they could see the lower-classmen Squads of each of the various Academy Sectors, each surrounded by their senior cadets. To their right was Mutara Sector in their blue and purple t-shirts. To their left was Antedian Sector, with their white and silver. In both directions, following the Parade Ring as it curved around Khitomer Building, they could see the clashing colours of the various Sectors, almost too many to count. The energy was incredible: thousands of cadets just waiting for the Challenge to start. Lower-classmen Squads, filled with nervous energy, waiting for their chance to show the rest of the their Sectors what they could do. Surrounding the Parade Ring were rows of bleachers, on which parents, family members and friends were able to watch. While most of them couldn't quite understand what the big deal was, most could recognize that whatever was about to happen, it was something that the cadets were taking extremely seriously. Every change parade, every push-up, every round of that incomprehensible wake-up music and every ounce of pressure put on them by their SNAP staffs had been leading them to this moment.

They formed up and fell silent as gigantic holographic screens, projected on the walls of the towering building, displayed the image of the school Commandant, Admiral Decrefils. After a brief speech, which boiled down to 'congratulations and good luck'15, he stepped back from the podium and said:

"Lower-classmen Squads, take your places and prepare to begin!"

"This is it, guys!" Bahred said, almost quivering with nervous energy as Brute Squad filed past him, into the as-yet-empty holo-patio, "Everybody ready?"

"Ready to kick some ass!" Bizkit cried out, nearly bouncing on her tip-toes.

"Who-hoo! Ass-kicking!" Derok shouted out, "Wait, not mine, right?"

"Only if you screw up, you f-" Nuhvil started to say.

"OK, let's f**king do this!" Malespere said, holding a padd that would keep him updated on their challenge objectives.

Through the thin mesh walls studded with holo-projectors, they could still hear the roar of the crowd outside. They couldn't see the other Squads, nor would they know how each had done until the end. But the energy was still palpable, regardless.

"Stand by," announced the toneless voice of a computer as the holo-patio suddenly began to power up.

Suddenly, with a shower of holographic sparks, the empty room suddenly shifted. The cadets found themselves in a clearing, with thick forest surrounding them on all sides. There was a crash of thunder and a flash of lighting as torrents of rain began to fall on them.

"My HAIR!" Kumari squealed.

Malespere's padd began beeping. The other cadets watched him in anticipation as his eyes darted over the display.

"There's a transporter beacon a kilometre north of here," he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the storm, "We've got to get over there, now!"

Bahred and M'Kr'gr quickly organized their teams, and the cadets started rushing through the brush, pushing aside trees and trying to avoid the growing puddles. Their shirts clung to them like second skins, and soon each had mud halfway up to each knee.

They soon came across a shallow ravine. Looking around, they quickly found a path down.

"Try to find a way back up!' Malespere shouted, eyeing the sheer rock face that formed the other side of the ravine. It was too smooth even for him to scale, and even if his climbing skills got him up, they didn't help the others.

"Look!" Fastocheni pointed up, "Vines!"

There were indeed several vines clustered up towards the lip of the ravine. If they could somehow pull them down…

"Help steady me," Kodene said in its deep voice. It whipped it's tentacles around, gripping the rock wall with its suction cups and trying to wriggle its way up. With Fastocheni and Veksai holding it steady, it managed to snag two of the vines and knock them down. A few feet down, Nuhvil was helping Bahred climb onto M'Kr'gr's shoulders. They succeeded in knocking two more vines down.

Within a few minutes, the Squad managed to clamber up and over the edge, though the rain made things more difficult.

"OK!" Malesphere shouted, "Let's go!"

After a few more minutes or rushing, the trees abruptly gave way, revealing a river. The surface of the water shimmered as the rain fell, and another bolt of lightning illuminated the scene. A single rope was suspended over the water, and it was pretty obvious what was expected of them.

"Do you get the feeling," Veksai tried to make himself heard over the din, "That it seems like somebody set this thing up as some kind of giant obstacle course?"

"Shut up!" Malespere shouted, "Everybody, over the river! Let's move!"

With a frantic energy, they started jumping onto the rope, dangling by all four limbs (or by all tentacles) as they slid down the rope.

"STOP!" Malespere suddenly shouted, pulling back on Igor before he could get on, "SHIT!"

As they approached the middle of the rope, the combined weight of the half-dozen cadets already crossing had pulled the rope lower and lower, until now Bahred was being dunked in the river, sputtering as he pulled his head up for air.

"GO!" Malespere shouted, trying to make himself heard. They needed to get some people over, so the rope would tighten up! He should have only sent over a couple at a time! If they lost anybody in the river, the holo-patio safeties would keep them from being too badly injured, but they'd lose the Challenge! DAMN!

But Bahred had let go of the rope with his legs and was using his hands on the rope to pull himself towards the far bank. As the rope began angling up, he swung his legs back up and pulled himself onto the far bank.

With the reduced weight, Veksai and Gallium received only mild dunking and Wind didn't even touch the water's surface. Soon, everybody was across.

"Let's go! Come on!" Malespere shouted, urging them on as they starting rushing again for the beacon.

Malespere wasn't the only person urging them on. As they ran, Fastocheni and M'Kr'gr were urging on the slower runners, and outside the holo-patio they could hear the shouts of their SNAP staff and the senior cadets. Every few hundred meters, they'd come across another obstacle. There was a thick, muddy swamp which almost swallowed Bizkit, a thick cluster of thorny plants that required them to crawl through the muck on their bellies and a thin pass between two seemingly endless rock walls that was plugged up with logs and debris. After lifting away the blockage, they found themselves less than 50 meters from the beacon. Even the rain was letting up.

"Is that it?" Baxter asked, his breath coming in gasps as he tried to scrape some of the mud off his sleeves, "Cuz that, like, wasn't all that bad,"

"Speak for yourself, fatty," Quarterman growled.

"They said there'd be other stuff," Veksai wheezed, trying to catch his breath, "So far, they haven't-"

"SHHHH!"

Malespere suddenly started making a frantic hand gesture. It took a moment for everybody to realize that they'd learned it from the marines the previous weekend. It meant 'GET THE F**K DOWN AND SHUT THE F**K UP!'.

Malespere scuttled back to the center of the group, staying low.

"I can see people at the beacon," he said, "Nuhvil, Kumari, go check it out!"

"Why us?"

"Don't argue!"

"Fine!"

The rest of the squad waited while the two cadets slunk away slowly through the brush. Several minutes later, they returned.

"There are 6…things around the beacon," Nuhvil reported.

"Things?"

"They're big, sort of orange," he said.

"And they have really big, ugly hair," Kumari added.

"Kazon," Gallium said, "nobody else in the galaxy has hair as bad as them. We had an introductory class on them two weeks ago,"

"So we ask them to let us at the beacon," Baxter said, "no biggy,"

"Weren't you paying attention in that class?" Kodene growled.

"Probably not. So?"

"Kazon are hostle," Gallium said, "I say we use these," he indicated the training hand-phasers they'd been given for the challenge.

"OK," Malespere said, "Bahred, take your team in and secure the beacon!"

"You got it!"

"I'm not sure I want to watch this," Buhras said, standing outside the holo-patio and watching as Bahred led several cadets toward the enemy.

"Go team!" Drain barked happily, scampering around the box-like structure on all fours. In the next holo-patio over, Mutara Sector's lower-classmen had just lost half their Squad to the Kazon, having been taken totally off-guard.

As they watched, Bahred, Baxter, Kodene, Bizkit, Derok and Fastocheni burst out of the bushes, firing at the Kazon. Bahred and Kodene were at least taking aimed shots, while Bizkit and Fastocheni seemed to be having some trouble with mud in their weapons. Baxter and Derok simply held down the triggers on theirs, spraying the beams around like water from a garden hose while giving out loud war cries.

Still, within seconds, the Kazon were down.

On the other hand, so was Fastocheni.

"You idiot!" Quarterman shouted, running up to Baxter, "Do you know how many points we're going to lose for this? What kind of moron are you!"

"A damned sexy one!" Baxter replied, "C'mon, I got some of the Keflon, didn't I?"

"That's not how you use a f**king phaser!" Veksai snapped, "And they were Kazon, not Keflon!"

"Hey, SHUT UP! All of you!" Malespere called, "We're not finished yet! Bitch later!"

They ran up to the transporter beacon, a cylindrical device about three feet high. M'Kr'gr had slung Fastocheni over one shoulder and was carrying him.

Malespere's padd beeped. He quickly read.

"OK, people!" he called, "We made the first objective! Now, there's a _Waystation_-class starbase in orbit of the planet that's been captured by a group of radical Andorians! We need to get up there and free the command crew!"

He stared at the beacon for a moment.

"Anybody know how to use this f**king thing?" he shouted.

"I guess this is the 'intelligence test' part of the scenario," Bahred mused.

"Did anybody stay awake in Introduction to Federation Technology?" Bahred asked.

"Did anybody who was awake UNDERSTAND Intro to FedTech?" Kumari whined.

"Oh, let me in here!" Veksai said, pushing his way towards the device, "You said we need to get up to the starbase, right?"

"Yeah, and quickly!" Malespere said.

"You actually remember that class on transporter systems?" Bahred asked as Veksai tapped away and the control panel.

"Nope," Veksai replied.

"Then how-"

There was a shimmer as the cadets dissolved in transporter beams, appearing on a broad transporter platform in the middle of a huge, empty cargo area.

"Did you do that?" Bahred asked.

"Yup."

"Sweet!"

Malespere gave a signal and the cadets, after wracking their brains to remember what that particular signal meant, spread out and started securing the cargo bay. Quarterman was helping Fastocheni to his feet as the slim cadet recovered from the stun blast.

"So how do we find the command crew?" Bahred asked.

"Has anybody actually been on a _Waystation _-class station before?" Malespere asked.

"I lived on one, but I only ever saw the civilian areas," Veksai shrugged.

"Hey, dudes!" Baxter called.

"We don't have time for jokes, Dylan!" M'Kr'gr grumbled.

"But…"

"It's a big station," Veksai said, "They could be anywhere!"

"We could ask the computer," Igor suggested, "It's supposed to track everybody, right?"

"Guys…"

"Baxter, WHAT?" Malespere snapped.

"I found a map," Baxter said, holding up a large padd, "It was just hanging by the door." He handed the padd to Malespere.

"Take a f**king chill pill, dude!" Baxter said.

Malespere and his 2ICs gathered around the map. The station consisted of two giant saucers connected by a solid-looking connecting tube. Overall, it resembled a barbell standing on one end.

"OK," Malespere pointed, 'We're here, at the bottom of the upper saucer," he said, "The baddies are probably here," he pointed at the operations tower at the top of the station, "And they probably have the command crew locked up…somewhere…"

"I said to ask the computer!" Igor called from his stakeout point.

"Oh, right. Uh, Bahred, you do that," Malespere ordered, turning back to the padd.

As Bahred spoke to the computer, Malespere looked around the cargo bay again. Surely, if this were a real hijacking, the Andorians would already know they were there. Would the holo-simulation be that realistic?

"The computer says the command crew is locked in Docking Bay 3," Bahred reported, "Oh, and the turbo-lifts are busted too, by the way,"

They consulted the map. Bay 3 was one of the main docking bays, located on top of the of the upper saucer.

"So we only have to climb about…30 decks or so," M'Kr'gr shrugged, "Excellent!"

35 levels worth of Jefferies16 tubes did not fit everybody's idea of a good time. With their hands and boots still slick with mud and rainwater, the ladder rungs became harder and harder to grip. Bahred and Malespere, bringing up there rear, were closing off each level they passed, the better avoid having anybody who slipped fall down dozens of decks worth of tube before splattering against the bottom17. By Malespere's count, they were just 7 levels below the docking bays, when there was a sudden slowing of pace.

"Hey, let's go up there!" he called out.

"Hold on!" somebody's voice called back, "I need a breather!"

"We've gotta keep pushing!" Bahred shouted up the tube.

"I said hold on!"

As this was happening, Veksai found himself stuck in the middle of the line of cadets, clinging to the ladder. It wasn't hard to figure out what has happening: The first part of the Challenge had been to test strength and agility, the second part was to test their wits and technical know-how. Now, their endurance was being tested. And, from the sounds of it, they were in danger of having serious problems.

"HEY!" M'Gr'Kr' snarled from the head of the line, "Listen, and listen good! There are dozens of other Squads out on this Parade Ring, and each one of them wants to win this race! If you just hang there, you're not the only one losing, you're pulling the rest of us down with you!"

"But-"

"Kodene, pass her up," M'Kr'gr said.

With that, Kodene snagged the complainer with one tentacle and deposited her on M'Kr'gr's shoulders.

"We're going up," M'Kr'gr said simply, then resumed climbing.

The cheers from outside the holo-patio renewed as Brute Squad resumed its climb. Soon, they'd reached the docking bay level, and were running down the corridors at full speed.

There was a flash of light, and Igor dropped to the carpet, stunned.

"ANDORIANS!" Derok screamed, ducking into a doorway.

"Fire!" Malespere shouted, dropped to the deck and firing his training phaser.

"There's more coming from behind!" Bahred called as blue faces started coming around the curve in the corridor.

"COME ON!" he screamed, pushing the Squad forward and into the docking bay.

They were on the lowest level of the multi-level bay. The massive docking bay door was closed, and whatever was above them was hidden by the second-level deck. Suddenly, they heard a voice cry out from above them.

"UP HERE! LET US OUT OF HERE!"

"The command crew!" Bahred exclaimed.

"But how do we get there?" Nuhvil called.

"There's a stairway behind the Departures lounge!" the voice called back.

"We can't get back out that way!" Igor said, firing his phaser through the exit door as another Andorian tried to push though.

"We've gotta get up there!" Malespere cried.

"We've gotta get one of us up there…" Bahred mused.

He an Malespere looked at M'Kr'gr and Kodene, then at Bizkit's slim, tiny body.

"I have an idea!" they both said.

30 seconds later, Bizkit let out an ear-splitting shriek as she was tossed unceremoniously up onto the upper level. (She was pretty sure Kodene's suction cups had left marks. Did that mean it'd given her a hicky? EWWW!) With the sounds of phaser fire coming from below, she found herself facing a group of Starfleet officers, each bound at the wrists. She quickly freed them.

"SIMULATION COMPLETE!" intoned the computer.

Abruptly, the simulated starbase faded away, showing the interior of the holo-patio. Buhras and the rest of the SNAP staff rushed them.

"HURRY!" Buhras shouted, "YOU'RE NOT DONE YET!"

She thrust a deep red sphere into Malespere's hands and pointed at the arched main entrance to the Parade Ring. A massive blue and white stone Federation emblem stood against Khitomer Building, circular with the various stars of the Federation depicted in white.

Except, the cadets realized, they weren't white. They were black. Like holes…

Malespere stared at the crystal orb in his hands, realization striking home.

"LET'S GO!" he shouted, bolting for the emblem.

The cadets ran full tilt, passing holo-patios where other Squads were still completing their Challenges. Just around the Ring, they could see another Squad, dressed in the Blue and Tan of Terran Sector, rushing for the emblem, a deep blue orb clutched in the hands of their Squad Captain. Brute Squad fought to put on an extra burst of speed as their senior, mid and junior-classmen ran alongside, urging them on. They were covered in mud and exhausted, some of them stumbling more than running.

"THIS IS IT! BRUTE SQUAD!"' Buhras shouted running ahead of them and pumping her fists, "THIS IS THE END!"

With one last burst of speed, Malespere flung himself at the emblem, finding the empty spot where the Antares Sector star should have been and thrust the red orb into the receptacle. A loud chime rang out, and the orb shone with a brilliant red glow. A split second later, there was another chime as the Terran Sector orb was slammed into place.

"WHOOO!" somebody shrieked. Nobody knew who it was, but within seconds, the entire Squad was falling all over each other, hugging, shaking hands and laughing.

It was over. The gruelling PT, the brutal mornings, the planned-to-the-minute days. It was finally over.

SNAP was over!

And their time at the Academy was just beginning…

End

Dedicated to Savage Flight, FYOP 2007. "Hard as F**K!"

Next: SNAP may be over, but life at the Academy is just beginning. For Malepsere, Veksai, Igor and the rest of the Brute Squad cadets, it's time to find out just how life changes once they're actually part of the Academy. Was it worth going through a month of SNAP? Find out someday (I dunno when) in Crash Course 1.5: 'Cooldown'.

1 Dr. Tulson was first featured in the very, very, very first Star Traks story, written by Alan Decker. In that episode, he'd been kidnapped by the evil Joegonots and forced to build a transference beam that the Joegonots could use to take over the galaxy. He was later rescued by Captain Rydell and the crew of the USS Secondprize and the Joegonot threat was eliminated. In a nearby parallel universe, the transference beam was turned into a Happy Ray and used to enslave billions. But that's another long story…and another reason to read the other Traks series!

2 LCARS – Library Computer Access and Retrieval System – the Starfleet computer operating system. Think of it as 'Windows for Starships'

3 Holodeck – A room capable of creating realistic and fully inter-active holograms. And lots and lots of interesting malfunctions. As you can imagine, what happens in the holodeck, stays in the holodeck.

4 Spleen – In Star Traks: Waystation, we learn that the Andorians take their spleen pie very seriously.

5 Runabout – A small space craft, larger than a shuttlecraft but smaller than a starship.

6 Colonel Martin Lazlo – A character on Star Traks: Waystation, Lazlo commands a group of marines stationed aboard the, er, station. He butts heads constantly with Captain Lisa Beck, the station's commanding officer. He also really likes blowing things up, but usually just ends up getting himself into trouble. Sheppard, Copeland and Lt. Colonel O'Neal are also 'borrowed' from Waystation.

7 Yes, I realize that today, the concept of a cadet piloting a flying vehicle is crazy, but this is the 24th Century. Give me a break.

8 Orions – Not much is really know about the Orions, other than that many of them like being pirates. Trek also has a lot of references to a crime group called the 'Orion Syndicate', which seems to me to be a sort of interstellar mafia. So when it comes to Veksai, I'm making this up as I go. And no, I am NOT a psyco-killer, or a kleptomaniac.

9 Bed Parades: When cadets are made to practice getting out of bed. I'm not kidding…the wake-up music is played, cadets rush to get shaved, bush teeth, make beds and dress for morning sports…at which point the staff decides they were too slow and sends them back to bed to try again.

10 Holo-imager: Like a camera…only it takes 3D images.

11 Just for the record, the person who inspired Kumari did, in fact, inform her parents of her decision to join the military. At this point, I'm taking dramatic license and having a bit of fun. Actually, come to think of it, I've been doing that since the first page of the first story. Did I forget to mention that?

12 Qu'nos: The Klingon homeworld.

13 OK, I'll confess, this is TOTALLY me being a smart-ass engineer. Artsmen work hard. In fact, I bet they spend as much time writing essays and papers for class as I spend writing these stories for this website.

14 Is it a coincidence that the red-and-white colours of Antares Sector correspond with the red-and-white of the Canadian Flag and the colours of Canada's Royal Military College? And that white happens to be the colour of RMC's #10 Squadron? Sure, a coincidence. Let's go with that.

15 Honestly, why can't the real speeches be that short?

16 Jefferies Tubes: Maintenance crawlways.

17 It's a simulation, they wouldn't actually splatter. But it would probably still hurt.


	5. Year 1 - Aftermath

Copyright 2008

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

1.5 – "Aftermath"

Cadet Arc Igor rolled over in his bed, his eyes catching the digits on his alarm clock. 05:59 hours. Any second now, he'd hear the sound of that bass drum, followed by the chorus of deep, Klingon voices marking the start of his hellish rush towards morning athletics. He'd already shaved the night before, so that would be quick. He was already wearing his athletic gear under his bed-sheets, so he wouldn't have to change-

HIS ATHLETIC GEAR!

Looking under the covers, Igor was greeting only by the sight of his nearly naked body. SHIT! 06:00! They'd be playing that song any second now! There's no way he could get dressed in time, it was going to be a mad dash to…to…

Wait a minute.

06:01 hours. No music.

Then it kicked in. SNAP was over. SNAP had been over for two weeks. There would be no wakeup music. No morning athletics. In fact, the only thing they had scheduled that morning was a Sector muster in the Fort Pike courtyard, and that wasn't until 07:30! Hell, he could just roll over, go back to bed and sleep for another hour!

Still, certain calls of nature demanded Igor's attention, and so he climbed out of bed anyway. On the bunk below him, Baxter let own a low groan, then rolled over in his bunk. Stepping outside his door, Igor was nearly flattened as Gallium went racing down the hallway at top speed. Down the hall, a junior-classman from another sector was banging on Kodene's door, yelling that he was late for the morning security duty briefing.

"Whoah!" Igor grumbled, still half asleep.

"Sorry Igor!" Gallium called back, "I'm going to be late!"

"For what?"

"Morning run! I want to get to the Golden Gate bridge and back before breakfast!' Gallium called, then disappeared.

"But we don't have athletics this morning," Igor objected, "Do we?"

"No," the blue-skinned Bolian cadet replied, "I just enjoy a morning run. See ya!"

Dodging the still-present hole in the floor, he left.

"He's crazy," Igor muttered.

"Dude, you're crazy,' Nuhville muttered, lying in bed.

"No, I'm hungry," Veksai said, pulling on his cadet uniform with its fresh, mustard-yellow shoulders, "And if you want to eat before the muster thing, you should probably get up,"

"I'll eat after," Nuhville groaned.

"Don't you have class right after?"

"Not until 10:00h," Nuville said, pulling his covers over his head and promptly ignoring his roommate.

"I f**king hate artsmen," Veksai muttered, heading out the door.

"EngOps are crazy," Nuville thought to himself before falling asleep.

For all of the Brute Squad cadets, the last two weeks had been…calm. Strangely so, after the constant demands of SNAP and the barely organized chaos of the Survival Challenge.

Everybody could still remember the aftermath of that event, even if the challenge itself was something of a blur. They'd completed the challenge, working their way through the holographic scenario that tested their skills, their wits and their determination. They'd rushed across the Parade Ring, racing the Terran Sector lower-classmen, each squad trying to be the first to place an orb representing their Sector star in the monolithic Federation emblem adorning the entrance to Khitomer Building. Brute Squad had barely – BARELY- managed to slip in ahead of Kirk Squad.

Unfortunately, they still didn't will the challenge.

They'd placed well, with the best overall time. They'd also been the only lower-classman squad to run the challenge without having anybody sitting on the sidelines due to injury. Unfortunately, the points they'd lost due to minor penalties and errors had added up to cost them the lead.

Of course, nobody had really cared about that at the time…

Two Weeks Ago: End of SNAP:

The careful discipline they'd worked hard to build for the challenge had fallen apart with the chime that marked the end of their challenge, with cadets and SNAP staff falling all over each other, shaking hands, slapping backs and celebrating a job well done. They'd been reigned in by their SNAP staff long enough for the Cadet Executive Officer, senior-classman Burch, to order the Academy to attention and for a group of senior officer to distribute commemorative coins to each of the cadets.

"What is this thing?" M'kr'gr growled, looking at his coin as if it was going to bite him.

"It's a coin, silly," Bizkit said, "It's, like, so you remember. Like a souvenir!"

"I will never forget this day," M'kr'gr said. He stared at the coin, which had the Academy logo engraved in one side and the Federation emblem engraved in the other, "I don't need a petty souvenir to remind me,"

"Yeah well…it's a tradition," mid-classman Buhras interrupted, "C'mon, there's something else we have to do!"

She'd led them, running, from the Parade Ring to the end of the Academy campus, a good 10-minute jog. They found themselves near the water, with an old but large and sturdy pier jutting out into the bay. "You're all filthy!" she said.

"Excellent," M'Kr'gr growled understanding immediately what would come next. With one hand, he plucked Buhras out of the air and tossed her, screaming, into the water.

Taking his cue, the rest of the cadets pounced on the SNAP staff. Fastocheni and Igor haled Vexnar to the edge of the pier and proceeded to chuck him into the water. Baxter and Malespere tossed in Kethnor, while Mecablox simply jumped into the water of his own accord. Drain was barking happily, even as Bizkit and Quarterman tossed him off the pier.

"Oh my Gods!" Kumari gasped, half in shock and half in delight.

"Payback time!" Veksai laughed.

One after another, the Brute Squad cadets jumped off the pier, splashing around in the bay.

The weekend had been a badly needed break. Even as the lower-classmen trudged back, exhausted, to Fort Pike, they'd been set upon by the junior-classmen. The juniors, true to their role, were there to help out. They'd collected Brute Squad's filthy uniforms and had a bin of warm blankets ready.

Veksai was walking back into the Brute Squad hallway, wanting nothing more than a hot shower, when he saw something that took his breath away:

Miss Buhras was tearing down the highway. The hated, hated highway. That path they'd had to follow, taking them all around the corridor just to get one or two doors down.

"YES!" Veksai exclaimed, "Thank God!"

"I could leave it up for another day if you like…" Buhras offered.

"No, no. That's fine." Veksai said, holding up his hands in surrender.

Glancing at his terminal, he was somewhat surprised to see a blinking 'MESSAGE WAITING" indicator.

Their communications had been enabled! His eyes almost bugging out, Veksai logged in to his FedNet account. Everything was available! Galacti-Tube, holo-show downloads, even Facebook!

Remembering that his parents were waiting outside Fort Pike, Veksai reluctantly shut down the system and headed for the showers.

Fort Pike had emptied out quickly.

Those cadets who had family on campus watching the Survival Challenge took a few moments to show them around, though nobody wanted to linger in Fort Pike. Veksai and his parents left for dinner in San Fransisco, Kumari and her parents were off to some posh royal retreat in the tropics and Igor and his sister went off to his sister's apartment near Federation University. (His sister was an FU student.)

Soon, the SNAP staff found themselves in an empty corridor.

"By the Prophets, I'm glad that's over with!" Buhras said, flopping down in a chair in the dilapidated Fort Pike lounge.

"Yes," Vexnar agreed quietly, "Do you realize I haven't had a really good fight in over a month?"

"I'll fight ya!" Buhras giggled, jumping back to her feet and putting up her fists.

Vexnar sneered.

"You don't even have a dagger!"

"So?"

"You can't draw blood with your bare hands!"

"Watch me!"

"Forget it," Vexnar said, "I am going to the Warrior's Den. Perhaps Senzix will be there. Now there is a girl who knows how to fight!"

"Isn't she the 4th Order Andorian Pleasure Mistress?1" Kethnor asked.

Vexnar just grinned.

"I thought you wanted to fight?" Drain asked, scratching his ear with his lower foot-paw.

"An Andorian Pleasure Mistress can do more damage than a platoon of Federation Marines. Weren't you paying attention in Federation Cultures 201?" Mecablox asked.

"Nope, he was taking a cat-nap!" Buhras giggled.

For some reason, Drain must have found this incredibly funny, as he promptly broke into a series of growly giggles.

The next day was the traditional Comm-Badging Ceremony2. Still separated from their respective Sectors, all the lower-classmen in the Academy were formed up around the Parade Ring in their Squads. Dressed in the drab SNAP uniforms, they were a strong counterpoint to the formal (but outdated) maroon uniforms worn by the junior, mid and senior classmen formed up behind them.

Standing there on Parade, Gell Gallium was almost bouncing on his tip-toes. He'd done it! SNAP was over! No more of, well, any of that crap! And soon he'd have his comm-badge!

The comm-badges weren't particularly special, except to a cadet just finishing SNAP. They were simply communication devices that were worn on the uniform. Every single member of Starfleet wore one to keep in contact. The exceptions, of course, were the SNAP cadets.

Along with the grey shoulders on their uniforms, the lack of comm-badge was yet another marker that just screamed out to the Academy that the cadet in question was on SNAP and was not officially an Academy member yet. It was just one more little thing that set them apart from the higher years, and it was one more thing that they'd grown to resent as SNAP went on.

But now, Gallium reflected, now they'd have their own badges! And properly coloured uniforms! And their distinctive Sector patch! Ohhhh, he could hardly wait!

Within minutes, though it seemed like hours, the cadets had been badged. And the command they'd been waiting weeks for was finally being given.

"Cadets of 62000 will join the Academy!" senior-classmen Burch called, "To your Sectors, quiiiiiiick….MARCH!"

As they marched , following the other lower-classmen squads as they curved around and marched into the waiting Sectors of higher years, many of the Brute Squad cadets couldn't help but feel that the hard part was over. They were officially part of Antares Sector and the Academy now. Now they could sit back and focus on their studies.

Sunday evening, however, saw that illusion shattered.

Several of them still hung over from the prior evening's 'SNAP Got Snapped!'3 party, Brute Squad sat in the Sector Lounge while their former SNAP staff, now simply their Squad Staff, laid down a few ground rules.

"Back on campus by 2200h," Buhras was saying, "0100 on weekends. You have to wear Class-D uniforms when you leave campus. You'll take turns doing Security Duty in the Fort Pike monitoring room every evening. Ummm, mandatory sports are twice a week, 1900-2200 is quiet hours in quarters. What else?"

"Rooms remain at SNAP standard," Kethnor growled.

"That too," Buhras agreed, "Oh, and you're not allowed to wear civilian cloths at any time!"

There was general groaning from the cadets. Veksai's face was turning a very unhealthily shade of emerald green. Who the hell were these people, telling him how to dress in his off hours?

"What's a Class-D uniform?" Wind, the somewhat blond-acting Asian girl asked.

"Did you ever see Admiral Kirk's logs from around the V'ger incident?" Mecablox asked.

"You mean that big space-cloud that tried to eat Earth?" Wind asked, "I think we studied it. It ate a space station too, didn't it?"

"You mean," Gallium asked, "The Class-Ds are those incredibly drab grey and blue things?"

"The ones that hide nothing?" Quarterman asked, "Cuz I'm pretty sure I could see Scotty's jumk right through those things!"

"Ewww!" Bizkit cried in disgust.

"Those are the Class-Ds" Mecabloxs nodded.

"What's with the obsession with, like, totally out of date clothing here?" Gallium asked.

"Tradition," Vexnar hissed.

"Yeah, but, c'mon!" Gallium went on, "We need a bit of fashion sense here! We can't go around wearing outfits that look like pyjamas!"

"I've already been using mine as pyjamas," Wind giggled.

"This is not open to discussion," Mecablox said. Seeing that there were no further comments, he returned to his room. The rest of the Squad Staff followed suite.

The Brute Squad cadets looked around at each other, confused. There were no boots that needed polishing, no uniforms that needed ironing and no room inspection the next morning. What the heck were the supposed to do with themselves?

"So," Bahred asked, "Now that that's over with…who the hell are all you people?"

Weeks later, where the story originally started:

"Are you ready for the Non-Einsteinian Physics mid-term?" Kumari was asking Veksai.

"Is anybody?" the half-Orion asked morosely. Having been outside the Federation educational system for some time, he'd been burying himself in his books, trying to get caught up.

"I dunno," Kumari said, "I bet Bahred is,"

"I heard that!" Bahred called from across the table, "Wait, what?"

Veksai, Malespere, Kumari and Bahred, along with a couple dozen other EngOps students, were in the lower-classman Physics Laboratory. While they were ultimately studying different subjects, first year EngOps was common to pretty much all students. Their current experiment saw each of them tinkering with a tiny anti-matter reactor connected to a single warp coil.

"OK," called out the professor, "Once the lab assistants have ensured that your magnetic connections are correct, I'll turn on the antimatter flow. We wouldn't want any massive explosions after all, do we?"

"What would happen if we hooked this up wrong?" Bahred wondered, eyeing the contraption he'd been working on.

A lab assistant looked over his shoulder, then switched around a couple of conduits.

"In your case, you would have caused an explosion big enough to vaporize everything in this room." the assistant said.

As Bahred turned ghostly pale, Malespere chuckled.

"Don't worry," the assistant said as he checked Veksai's connections, "They designed Khitomer building with internal force-fields, just in case. Somebody standing even just outside this room would be perfectly safe.

At least three lower-classmen bolted from the lab.

Once the antimatter flow was turned on, they started taking measurements on their coils.

"Carefully increase the plasma flow," Kumari mumbled, reading off her padd, "Then look for a static field of 45 milli-Cochranes." She reached for the adjustment controls, just beyond her slender arms. Stretching, she stabbed at the control, accidentally knocking her mini-reactor into her warp coil.

There was a sharp flash, then a bouncing orb of light shot out of Kumari's coil, ricocheting around the room, bouncing repeatedly off the containment force-field and sending cadets and lab-assistants scrambling for cover.

"Oopsies," Kumari whispered.

"Nicely done," Veksai commented angrily, "Hey, we're still alive over here, why don't you try killing us again!"

"I'm so screwed in this class," Kumari groaned.

A few levels up, Fastocheni and M'Kr'gr were in a different EngOps class, n-Dimensional Calculus.

"Und zo," the professor (some sort of purple alien with big ears) was saying, his accent so thick as to be almost unintelligible, "Vonce u gets into za seventh dimension, ze karls bagin to-"

"I am not prepared for this mid-term," M'Kr'gr admitted quietly to Fastocheni.

"Me neither, man," the slender Italian agreed, "I mean, I'm good with all the three-dimensional stuff, but past that…"

Suddenly, one of the other cadets fell to the floor, clutching his head and screaming.

The cadets jumped to their feet in alarm, one of them hitting his comm-badge and calling the medical team.

Rushing to the cadet, the professor knelt down.

"Vhat do you zee?" he asked insistently.

Gasping in pain, the cadet clutched his head.

"The six-dimensional hyper-paraboloid!" he said, then passed out. Within seconds, a medical team had materialized in the room and quickly beamed away with the cadet.

"Oh, zis is most excellent!" the professor said excitedly.

"Huh?" one of the cadets said, "Is he gonna be OK?"

"Ze standard humanoid brain iz chust not capable of pervecing in more zan tree dimensions," the prof said excitedly, "Even Vulcans can only zee four, maybe fife! But effery vonce in a vile, we haff cadet who can do it! Iz ecsellent"

The cadets looked at him in horror.

"Vell, ze seizures caused by such hyperdimensional zinking are unpleasant," the professor admitted, "But zink of ze boon to mathematics!"

Fastocheni and M'Kr'gr exchanged glances.

"We are so screwed in this class," Fastocheni said.

Later that evening, Igor, Fastocheni and M'Kr'gr were gathered in one of the rooms in Fort Pike, studying.

"Has anybody seen Baxter yet tonight?" Igor asked, "He borrowed my tricorder, and I can't work on Intro to Isolinear Circuitry without it,"

"He's on duty in the security room, isn't he?" Fastocheni asked.

"No, Fast," his large, scaly roommate reminded him, "His shift ended half an hour ago,"

"Oh." Fastocheni sat there for a minute.

"Wait, that means I was supposed to be on duty half an hour ago!" he suddenly exclaimed, grabbing his uniform jacket and bolting for the door.

He almost crushed Gallium on his way out.

"Whoah," Gallium jumped back, "What's the rush?"

"XL will tell you!" Fastocheni shouted back over his shoulder, running down the hallway and jumping gracefully over the hole in the floor.

"XL?" Gallium asked.

"That would be me," M'Kr'gr said, flexing one arm, "It means 'Extra Large'."

"But you're not that big," Gallium said innocently.

M'Kr'gr bared his teeth.

There was a knock at the door. This time it was Veksai. The greenish alien was standing there, his face half-buried in a textbook.

"Does anybody in here understand this question on graviton repulsive forces?" he asked, barely seeming to be aware of who was in the room.

"My girlfriend says-" Gallium started.

"You don't have a girlfriend!" Igor interrupted.

"Yes I do! She goes to FU!" Gallium said.

Becoming more aware of his squad-mates, Veksai lifted his gaze from the book.

"Gallium," he said, "Didn't I hear you saying today that you wanted to get involved in…what was it…the Uniform Redesign Committee?"

"Oh yeah!" Gallium perked right up, "We're bringing back a distinctive uniform for the Academy, instead of just using these active duty version during the day!"

"Wait," Igor said, "You mean, instead of wearing what the rest of the fleet wears, at least during class, you want us to go back to some old thing that they got rid of years ago, just like the Class-Ds we have to wear off campus, or those maroon outfits we wear for formal crap?"

"Oh yes!" Gallium exclaimed, "Only we're going to totally update them, it's going to be fabulous! We'll make them more comfortable, more stylish, and maybe add a few accessories to spruce them up a bit!"

Igor, M'Kr'gr and Veksai exchanged a knowing look.

"His 'girlfriend'," Veksai said, making little air quotes with his free hand.

"Indeed," M'Kr'gr narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Gallium asked innocently, looking around.

"Nothing," Igor said, "It's the 24th Century. Whatever floats your boat,"

"Huh?"

"I am going to the gym," M'Kr'gr said, "Veksai, are you coming?"

"Later," Veksai said, turning to leave, "I have to get this stuff finished."

"Guys?" Gallium called after them as they went their separate directions, "What were you talking about? GUYS?"

Malespere, Kumari and Bahred were likewise studying in Malespere and Bahred's room, just down the hall. Malespere had found a large, interactive wall display and had it hanging from one wall. It was covered with equations and diagrams, not that they all necessarily understood what it all meant.

"So, wait," Bahred was saying, "The structural integrity field strength has to exceed warp field intensity by a factor of what?"

"It's right here," Malespere said, pointing at a bizarre-looking equation.

"No, that can't be right," Kumari said, exasperated, "That gives me the same answer as the inertial dampening field intensity, and I'm pretty sure that's wrong!"

Without warning, Veksai appeared at the door.

"Hey, have you guys started working on the graviton repulsion questions yet?" he asked.

"No man," Bahred said, "We're still working on the warp acceleration question,"

"Crap," Veksai sighed. He looked at the display for a moment, then frowned.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Structural integrity strength," Malespere said.

"Oh. You're using the wrong formula," Veskai said, turning to leave, "You need the hull stress tolerance for that one, not the acceleration neutralizer. I was banging my head over that one for over an hour,"

He left.

"That guy is strange," Malespere said.

"A bit," Kumari agreed.

"Huh? Why?" Bahred asked.

"He's like, always studying by himself," Kumari said, "He only comes out to ask questions!"

"He's just weird," Malespere added, "I mean, he's all green, and stuff, too!"

"So?" Bahred asked, "So's M'kr'gr,"

"And Vexnar is blue," Kumari added.

"Yeah, but at least they ACT alien," Malespere said, "Veksai, I mean, he's half alien. He should act it, right?"

"How so?"

"He's what, half Orion?" Kumari asked, "Or half…whatever M'Kr'gr is?"

"Orion," Malespere said, "Pack of pirates,"

"He does have this really annoying habit of calling me 'human woman'," Kumari said thoughtfully.

"See?" Malespere said, "Who knows what's next?"

There was a crash as M'Kr'gr knocked on the door.

"Gym time," he said flatly.

"OK, just let me wrap up here," Malespere said, grabbing his stuff.

Despite the worrying, the fretting, and in some cases the near-panic, the mid-term season didn't result in the spontaneous combustion of any of the cadets.

"I'm surprised," Veksai was saying to Fastocheni and Lucille Verone, a slender, dignified girl from one of the Federation colonies. Verone was a member of Brute Squad, but Veksai had only started to get to know her after SNAP had ended.

"Why, you did that bad?" Fast asked.

"No, I did good," Veksai said, "Really good. That's the surprise,"

"Oh, well that's excellent then, right?" Verone asked.

"No," Veksai groaned, "Now I have to try to keep my marks up through finals! It would have been easier if I'd just barely passed…it would have been easy to improve!"

"Don't be so negative," Fast said, "K, I gotta run, Melody is here,"

"Melody?" Veksai asked, watching as Fast left, moving, uh, 'fast'.

"His girlfriend," Verone said.

"Oh, right." Veksai sighed, "I forgot you kids change partners every two weeks,"

"Hey!" Verone sat up, "Sylvester and I have been together for over a month!"

"Ok, ok," Veksai held his hands up in surrender, "It just seems that since SNAP ended, Fast is always off with somebody,"

"I don't see YOU with any pretty young ladies,"

"I'm sitting here with you, aren't I?"

"I'm taken!"

"Yeah, well," Veksai stretched, "I like my girls older. And greener."

"Don't be picky!"

"I like picky!" Veksai grumbled, "If I'm not eager to see my date after we've been together for a few weeks, then what's the point?"

"Sounds like you're no better than all the 'kids' around here," Verone observed.

"Did I say I was?"

"Yes. Yes you did."

"Oh."

Suddenly, Team Leader Kethnor poked his head into the room.

"Has anybody seen Nuhvill today?" he demanded.

"Uh, nope," Veksai, Nuhvill's roommate said.

"I see. I needed him to clean the Brute Squad hallway. Since he's not here, you get to do it. Enjoy!"

"F**k," Veksai muttered.

"Drive-by shafting!" Verone observed.

"This multi-dimensional vector stuff sucks," Igor said, scratching his head. Baxter, Igor and Kodene were lounging around in Igor & Baxter's room. Well, Igor was trying to study, but with the two (now three) artsmen in the room, that really wasn't working to well.

"Vector studies in arts is easy!" Baxter said, "See, if you start drinking at O'Ryan's, then go drink at the The Platform, then stumble over to Groxmor and Firkin, then drag yourself back to O'Ryan's for a nightcap, your vector sum is zero! Cuz you're back at the same bar!"

"Hey! Guess what tomorrow is!" Gallium said excitedly, jumping into the room.

"666 To Blast-Off!" Baxter said, pumping his arms, "Booze and whores!"

Kodene and Baxter exchanged a high-five.

"Uh, no," Gallium said, as Baxter started looking for something to wipe the slime off his hand with, "Our Bajoran exchange students arrive tomorrow!"

"After mid-terms?" Igor asked.

"Well, they were delayed. Heard of space-buffalo, I think."

"And it's 666 To Blast-Off," Baxter said, "The senior classmen are gonna be haaaammered!'

As if to punctuate the point, he head-butted Kodene. The squid-alien simply picked the human up with one tentacle, then held him dangling near the ceiling.

"666 what's?" Kodene asked in its low, slurping voice.

"Stardate things," Gallium said, "I dunno how it works. But in 666 of them, the senior-classmen are gonna graduate,"

"What does that have to do with us?" Igor asked, giving up on his studies and turning off his padd.

"You guys don't know?" Gallium looked horrified, his blue skin turning even bluer. "Quick! We need to find some senior-classmen!"

"Why?" Igor asked.

"Because we totally get to be them tomorrow!"

"WHAT?"

The next day:

Renath Ablis, Jekir Sentol, Ceder Cres and Terim Ungar sat calmly in the small shuttlecraft that was delivering them from Spacedock down to Starfleet Academy. Their home planet, Bajor, had been through drastic changes in the past two decades. From being occupied and enslaved by the Cardassians4 to being abandoned, to becoming a major commerce hub to becoming the front line of a massive war, Bajor had been in the middle of a multi-way tug-of-war. But with things now finally calming down, the Bajoran people were becoming accustomed to a certain level of stability, and were becoming more comfortable with their role in the greater galactic picture.

To help with this, the four young Bajorans were being sent to Starfleet Academy, one of the most respected institutions of learning in the entire Federation, to learn skills and techniques that would better serve them and their world. There had been Bajorans at the Academy before, but instead of becoming officers, these Bajorans would be returning home to pass on what they'd learned.

"Have any of you been on a Federation facility before now?" Ablis asked.

"We were all on Deep Space Nine," Sentol pointed out, "General Kira keeps things very…orderly,"

"So did Sisko, before her," Ungar said.

"I expect," Cres added, "That it will be just as tightly disciplined here,"

The shuttle landed in the Khitomer Building hanger bay. The four students were met by a young Starfleet Lieutenant and escorted down to ground level.

They found themselves staring in shock at the scene that greeted them.

All around the towering building, cadets were moving between classes. Half of them sported formal-looking maroon tunics, the rest standard Starfleet uniforms. There appeared to be some sort of mix-up, as none of the maroon tunics fit. Large, older cadets with broad shoulders were squeezed into tunics that couldn't even be buttoned up properly, while younger, slimmer cadets practically swam in larger garments. Even stranger, the younger cadets seemed to be in charge.

"HEY! LOWER!" a short, furred cadet screamed at an Andorian cadet almost twice his size, "SWING THOSE ARMS WHEN YOU'RE MARCHING!"

"YES, SENIOR-CLASSMEN1" the Andorian shouted, a broad grin on his face.

Further down the Parade Ring, another younger cadet was assigning push-ups to an older Centaurian, and a young, black human was accusing a very, very muscular Rigillian of insubordination.

The Bajoran exchange students exchanged a glance.

Looking slightly embarrassed, the Lieutenant escorted them to the Replicator Center, where they were outfitted with the equipment they'd need during their stay. As it was now later in the evening, they expected to find the campus fairly quiet, with most of the cadets inside studying.

Wrong again.

The younger cadets had vanished, but the older ones, the senior-classmen, were running around the campus in costumes, carrying large bags of candy. As they were escorted into the building they would be staying in (Fort Archer), they found that the candy was coming from the lower classmen! The seniors would show up at the lowers rooms, demanding and receiving candy.

"What bizarre sort of planet is this?" Cres whispered.

Looking out the window of Fort Pike, Veksai and Gallium exchanged a glance.

"Some first impression, huh?" Veksai observed, taking off the senior-classman maroon tunic he'd been wearing as part of the day's 'traditional festivities'. "They had to come on lower-senior swap day,"

Down the hall, Malespere, Bahred, M'Kr'gr and Ross, a human from Vulcan Sector, were making plans of their own 'traditional festivities'.

"Look, I have the supplies," Malespere said, "it's gonna be awesome!"

"When's he leaving for the party?" Bahred asked.

"It starts at 2200h," M'kr'gr said, "We will have several hours to complete this task,"

"No we won't," Malespere said, "We have to get all the senior classmen!"

"Naw," Bahred said, "Veksai has Rian's room, Guthar and Kodene are taking Mecablox's room, and Verone has…uh, Picardson's?"

"Whaterver," Malespere said, "Good, then we just have to worry about Parami's room,"

Some time later, Senior-Classman Parami was stumbling back to his room. As the Antares Sector Cadet Leader, he played a large role in working with Lt. Wellington to take care of the day-to-day running of Antares Sector. Still, 666 to Blast-Off was a chance for all senior-classmen to get out and let loose.

Enjoying the drunken stupor brought on by too much synthehol, he reached his room, then stopped as realization hit home.

666 to Blast-Off was also the night when the lower-classmen were expected to sabotage all the senior-classmen's rooms.

Almost fearfully, he tapped the open panel for his door.

Peering in carefully, he saw…nothing?

His bed, his desk, all of his possessions, everything was gone.

Looking down the hall, he could see several members of Brute Squad huddled behind a corner, snickering.

"Very funny guys," he laughed, "What did you do, beam everything to the Sahara Desert?"

"Look up!" somebody called.

He did.

Everything he owned, from his bed to his paperback copy of 'The Hunt for Red October', was hovering near the roof, tiny antigravity units blinking as they held everything up.

"Cute," he muttered.

Suddenly, one of the books flew right at him. Ducking, he managed to evade the book, just as his computer display set itself on course with his head.

"HOLY CRAP!" he shouted, as his possessions started flying right at him.

He ran down the hall, chased by the contents of his room, as the Brute Squad cadets laughed hysterically.

Renath Ablis and Jekir Sentol lay wide awake in their shared room, listening to the screams and curses of the Terran Sector senior-classmen. Outside their window, a big, burly, red-headed cadet was running down the street, chased by flying furniture. Down the hall, another senior-classmen was drunkenly trying to use a phaser cutter to slice though the doors to his room, which had been wielded together. Another cadet was trying to get his room out of a subspace pocket, and had only succeeded in making half of the building (and half of the Terran Sector cadets) disappear into an artificial subspace anomaly.

"And these people are the future leaders of the quadrant?" Ablis asked aloud.

"May the Prophets help us all," Sentor sighed.

Weeks later…

"I don't know why they don't just call this the Starfleet Academy Christmas Ball," Veksai grumbled, standing outside the entrance to the fitness complex, which had been temporarily redecorated for the 'Starfleet Academy Non-Denominational, Non-Discriminatory Festive Meal and Socialization Event'.

"Something to do with the Political Correctness Riots of the 21st Century," Gallium said.

"You're just a fountain of useless information, aren't you?" Veksai muttered.

"So are you!" Gallium shot back.

Hundreds of cadets were making their way into the cavernous building. All of the males were wearing the formal maroon tunics, while the females (and Quarterman) wore gowns, dresses, tribal wear, leather, or whatever their species considered as 'formal wear'. (Vexnar's date's dress included enough metal spikes to build a Constitution-class starship.) It was the first time wearing the formal jackets for the most of the lower-classmen, and Veksai had to admit that it was impressive, if uncomfortable. Looking across the crowd of maroon, he wondered if this was going to be a classy, formal event, or a cheap drunk-fest.

Across San Francisco Bay, Fleet Admiral Ra'al and Admiral Harlan Baxter were standing in the courtyard on the roof of the towering Admiralty building. Across the water, they could see Starfleet Academy, lit up like a Christmas tree. The booming beat of dance music could be clearly heard over the water.

"How much bad PR do you think we'll be getting out of the Academy Ball this year?" Baxter grumbled, his traditional cigar held in one hand.

"As the commander of the Explorer Project5, you are hardly one to talk about bad PR," Ra'al said haughtily.

"Don't remind me,"

The next day…

"Well, that was disappointing," Veksai grumbled.

"Are you whining again, half-breed?" M'Kr'gr complained.

"Are you whining about me whining, meat-bag?" Veksai shot back.

"Well…yes…"

"I would have though," Veksai said, "That an Academy-run function like that would have been more…I dunno…dignified?"

"You mean with less puking?" Fastocheni asked.

"Exactly!"

"You're just upset because you had to go stag," Fastocheni observed.

"Hey, just because my girlfriend can't slice my uniform off me with an epee doesn't mean-"

M'Kr'gr sat up.

"She can do that?" he demanded.

Fastocheni blushed.

"Weapon skills are SOOO hot in a woman," M'Kr'gr mused.

"Oh brother," Veksai groaned, "I'm outta here."

No sooner had he departed than the door chime sounded again. M'Kr'gr moved to answer it, finding himself face to…er, well. He wasn't sure what exactly he was facing.

"Is Fastocheni here?" the thing asked, its voice issuing from a mechanical device on it's…back."

"Uh, Fast?" M'Kr'gr grumbled, "There's a talking pile of rocks at the door that would like to speak with you,"

"Thanks!" Fastocheni said, hopping of his bed and greeting Hoget, a Horta6 cadet. Hogat was on the fencing team with Fastocheni, but so far nobody except the fencing team had seen just how the armless, legless, rocklike alien managed to hold a sword.

"Have you been studying for our Non-Einsteinian Physics final?" Hoget asked. A textbook-padd and a study padd were balanced on his back, where equations could plainly be seen.

"Yeah, man!" Fast said, "M'Kr'gr and I were just looking at that,"

"Did you get acceleration greater than the speed of light for problem 23-2?"

"Uhhhh…no. That's not supposed to happen until we get into warp propulsion theory," M'Kr'gr growled.

"That's what I thought," Hogat replied, "Why don't you come study in my room, instead of in this…place?"

Hogat was a member of Altair Sector, which lived in Fort Gillam. As they walked down the tree-lined pathway between the buildings, Fastocheni couldn't help but notice how empty the Academy seemed.

It was finals season, with final exams in progress and the cadets counting the days to a much needed winter vacation. Depending on who you asked, it was either the best or the worst time of the year.

Fort Gillam, being one of the more recently renovated buildings on campus, was a study in contrasts to Fort Pike. The layout was identical, but the spotless corridors and glass doors gleamed like new, the high ceilings and wide windows let in the natural light, and the furniture was completely intact. Some of Altair Sector cadets stared as both Fastocheni and M'Kr'gr swerved around a nondescript section of floor, as though unconsciously avoiding something.

"Man, I can never get over how nice these rooms are," Fast said as they settled in to begin studying.

"I would prefer Fort Pike," Hogat said, "The dark, the dank…so much more like my own home."

"I agree M'Kr'gr," If they would only install a swamp in the basement, it would be perfect,"

"You guys are nuts," Fastocheni said, flipping on his padd, "I hope they renovate it soon!"

"I'm really starting to love exam season here," Veskai said. He, Gallium, Quarterman, Baxter and Kodene were seated in the dining hall, picking at the daily special and wondering just what the holographic lunchroom staff had done to it this time. Last week, Malespere had found a severed human hand in his jambalaya. Luckily, it had been holographic, and had vanished as soon as he'd tried complaining about it. Unfortunately, Kumari had puked all over the floor, and human vomit didn't vanish as easily as holographic body parts.

"You're nuts," Quarterman said, "I hate it,"

"It's great!" Veksai went on, "We don't have classes, we don't have morning musters, we don't have Team Leaders popping by at all hours of the day to give us random jobs…we just have to study and write exams!"

"That's the part I hate!" Quarterman snapped, grabbing hier fork and holding it against the green cadets throat, "You here me? I HATE IT!"

"Whoah!" Baxter giggled, '"Somebody went and grew some balls!"

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU, I WAS BORN WITH THEM! I CAN'T HELP IT!" Quarterman screamed.

Cadets at the neighbouring tables were starting to stare.

"C'mon, let's go back to Fort Pike," Gallium said, trying to reassure the Hermat.

"It's OK," Baxter was saying to the staring cadets, "Hier species is supposed to have them,"

Quarterman wasn't the only cadet suffering from stress. As they walked back into Fort Pike, they could see lower, junior, mid and senior cadets huddled over their desks, cramming for whatever exam was next. (Or, in a few cases, relaxing after having just finished an exam.)

"I am surprised that there is no silly human tradition that deals with this exam stress," Kodene observed.

"There is," Gallium said, "There's an attack against Terran Sector tomorrow night,"

"Excuse me?" Veksai asked, eyebrows raised, "An attack?"

"Yeah!" Gallium said, "Y'know, with snowballs…"

Veksai crossed his arms.

'That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard! Do you SEE snow on the ground?"

"Well, no, but-"

"How are you going to throw snowballs without snow?"

"Maybe they've got some kind of self-replicating snowball cannon," Kodene wondered. It was the longest sentence it'd uttered in about two days.

They'd returned to their respective rooms when junior classmen Adeth and Junethec wandered into the Brute Squad hall. With the end of SNAP, the lower-classmen had been able to get to know their Sector-mates a bit better. Nuhvill and Adeth had been quick friends, each enjoying the same 'relaxed' approach to their time at the Academy. How it was exactly that a boy with the body of a lizard could have red hair was something of a mystery, but when somebody had asked him about it, he'd just loudly declared that 'the carpet matched the drapes'. He wasn't the same species as M'Kr'gr, but given the number of races in the Federation, nobody was that surprised that two completely different species could both be green, reptilian and scaled. Junethec was almost bouncing on his feet, his tail swishing from side to side as he looked around the corridor. (Some of the Brute Squad cadets had observed that Veksai moved much like Junethec if the former drank too much coffee.)

"Hey, lowers!" Adeth called out, "We need a couple people with some technical know-how!"

Veksai popped his head out of his room.

"And the willingness to get into some trouble!" Adeth added.

Veksai's head vanished. Baxter and Derok both jumped out into the hallway.

"Well, the trouble thing is more important that the techie skills thing anyway," Junethec said.

As they left, Bahred popped his head out of his door.

"Where are they going?" he asked.

"I dunno," Veksai said.

"I bets is has to do with thu snowball fight tonight," Malespere called from deeper in the room.

"Bets?" Veksai raised an eyebrow, "Did you turn your translator off again?"

"Yeah, man!" Malespere said, "I totally gotta get this language thing down! What are you taking for your language credit, anyway?"

"Andorian," Veksai said.

"You gotta practice that more, man, or you'll never get it!" Malespere said, "You gotta talk the talks, then walk the walks!"

"Malespere, have you ever listed to native Andorian?" Veksai asked.

"No,"

"Turn your translator back on," Veksai said. Once Malespere had complied, he spoke again.

"K'veltz nazz varrrrx!7" Veksai said calmly.

"Thank you," Vexnar said, smiling as he walked by, "Your Andorian is improving!"

Malespere listened to the translation, his face darkening.

"F**k you too, asshole!" he snapped, throwing a shoe at his door panel, causing the doors to hiss shut.

"What did you do that for, man?" Bahred asked, now shut out of his room.

"This is why I don't practice Andorian in our quarters," Veksai sighed, "The language is 80% profanity. I was actually being polite!"

Across the campus, Renath, Jekir, Ceder and Terim were seated just outside spacious Fort Archer lounge. The skylights and glass walls gave a splendid view of the surrounding campus, and a small terrace gave loungers a chance to sit outside. The coastal winter weather wasn't exactly great for sunbathing, but sometimes you just needed some fresh air.

"This is much better than winter in Dakar province," Ceder said, "By now, we'd have two feet of snow, and exposed flesh would freeze in under a minute,"

Looking out at the deserted campus, Renath agreed. The grass and trees were still green, and only the chill and the damp air darkened the day. He didn't know if this part of Earth was always like this, but it wasn't that bad of a way to spend winter.

Noticing something out of the corner of his eye, he pointed.

"Is that somebody on the roof of Khitomer building?" he asked.

They all looked. Sure enough, four tiny figures were up there.

"What are they doing?" Terim wondered.

"Probably another foolish human prank," Jekir said, turning back to his textbook padd.

There was a flash of light, followed by a loud humming sound from the very peak of the building, then a hazy, dome-shaped shield flickered into existence, covering the entire Academy like a bubble.

"I didn't know this place had its own defensive shield," Terim said excitedly, digging into his Academy Handbook.

"Shield?" Jekir jumped to his feet, "Is the Academy under attack?"

Looking out at the still, calm streets, Renath doubted it.

There was another hum, this one quieter and seeming to come all around them. Within minutes, big fat snowflakes were forming in the air around them, starting to whip around as temperature differentials started creating gusts of wind.

"I hate winter," Ceder grunted.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Igor wondered, peering out his window. High above, he could see a pale blue dome arching over Fort Pike. The scattering of snowflakes had turned into a full-blown blizzard, with snow banks already forming around the neighbouring buildings. From the outside, the Academy resembled a freshly-shaken snow globe!

"It's snowing," Bizkit observed, her face screwed up in confusion.

"On the Pacific Coast?" Veksai wondered.

"What's going on?" Team Leader Kethnor asked, stepping into the room. He looked out the window, "Ah, I see the Academy's weather control system has been hijacked. Do you know what that means?"

"No-" Veksai started saying, until a snowball smacked into his face. Gallium was standing behind Kethnor, a second ball ready to throw.

"Somebody help me beat up Gallium," Veksai said darkly.

Kethnor looked at the two of them, comparing the tall, broad-shouldered Veksai with the small but fit Gallium.

"You need help?" he asked incredulously.

Apparently, this was yet another one of those traditions that had been running for who-knows how many years. Once the artificial snowfall had deposited a couple feet of snow, the air abruptly cleared. Cadets began pouring out of the dormitories, gathering in the pathways and moving out with one destination in mind: Fort Archer!

One of the first dormitories built on campus, Fort Archer was at the edge of the Academy, on San Francisco Bay. Nobody knew why, but as the Academy had expanded, newer dormitories were built further inland, leaving Fort Archer and the Terran Sector cadets that lived there somewhat isolated from the rest of the Academy. The instant the snowfall had cleared, several Terran Sector cadets ran out of the building, rolling massive snowballs and starting to create snow fortifications for the oncoming attack.

As the first wave of attacking cadets came into the clearing in front of Fort Archer they were easily dispatched with a wave of fire from the defenders. The second wave managed to get a round of ordinance off, with tightly packed snowballs pan caking against the stone walls of the building. The third wave managed to keep the Terran Sector cadets pinned down, long enough for several smaller groups to start a close in assault.

"This way!" Malespere called, ducking down behind a decorative bench. Bizkit, Baxter, Bahred and Kumari were right behind him, snowballs in hand.

"FIRE!" Malespere called, launching his snowball. The others let loose, and the projectiles arced just over the defensive snow wall, landing right on the defending cadets. Repacking fresh ordinance as they moved, Malespere led the others across a clearing and behind a tree, taking a few hits on his jacked on the way.

They were almost there! Snowballs were still flying between Terran Sector and the attacking cadets, leaving only a few defenders free to watch for fresh assaults. If the entire Academy had come out against Terran Sector it would have been an easy victory, bus as with many things, not everybody enjoyed this particular tradition.

Across the field, opposite Malespere and his group, Kethnor and Vexnar were creeping towards Fort Archer. There was a flash of energy from the defenders, then a massive clump of loose snow flew into the air, crashing down on the mid-classmen. Somebody had dragged some sort of snow cannon out of Fort Archer!

"MOVE!" Malespere cried, "Before they fire that thing at us!"

Sprinting at full speed, the Brute Squad cadets barely missed being flattened by the second blast from the cannon. They managed to dodge the increasing volume of fire directed at them, as more Terran Sector cadets became aware of the flanking attack.

"TAKE THE TRENCH!" Malespere screamed, remembering something that the insane Colonel Lazlo had taught them.

They dove for the edge of Terran Sector's defending wall. The instant they did, the nearest cadet pulled on a rope, then scrambled back.

A rope! That was the best they could do! HAH! Malepsere wound up, getting ready to nail the kid with his snowball, then Kumari screamed.

"MAAARC!"

Malespere barely had time to look up and see the column of snow falling towards them before it hit, driving him to the ground and burying him in freezing coldness. The rope, as it turned out, was attached to a metal sheet that had been holding up the snow that had collected on that part of Fort Archer's steep roof. When the plate had swung down, presto! Avalanche!

"We've had years to practice defending this place," the Terran Sector cadet said smugly.

A blob of wet snow slid down Malespere's back.

Days later…

Exams were over. Following the snowball fight, the Academy's defensive shield and weather control system had been shut down, allowing the campus to return to normal weather conditions. As the exams wound down, there was only one thing on everybody's mind:

Vacation.

Standing in the shabby foyer of Fort Pike, dressed in his civilian cloths, Veksai contemplated the Sector Status Board displayed on one wall. Used to track the status of every Antares Sector cadet, the board displayed dozens of names, some of them unfamiliar, some of them slightly familiar (like Adeth or Parami) and others, well…

Veksai located Brute Squad's listing on the board. Igor, Bizkit and Derok were already gone. M'Kr'gr and Veksai would be sharing a shuttle to Spacedock, where they would be returning to Paria and Waystation, respectively.

Having already said his goodbyes, Veksai took a moment to contemplate just how much his life had changed. Yeah, there were things about the Academy that he didn't like. He absolutely hated the in-town dress code, the pointless security shifts and the impression that he wasn't trusted to tie his shoes, let alone take care of his own physical fitness. And yet, he was bettering his education, preparing for a no-doubt interesting career and meeting people that, after SNAP, he knew he would never forget. When he compared that to working in an almost-dead-end job for Dillon Enterprises, being ground into the dirt by a soulless mega-corporation, the Academy was definitely a step up.

"Are you ready to go?" M'Kr'gr growled politely.

Veksai tapped the panel, changing his status from 'On Duty' to 'On Leave'.

"Yeah, yeah I am," he said.

'As long as it's not for too long,' he added to himself.

End

Next: With their first year halfway finished, Brute Squad faces a new Academy challenge. No, it's not SNAP. But after going through one semester of gruelling academics, mandatory everything and the 'gentle discipline' of mid and senior classmen, do they really want to come back and go through all of that again? Find out at some point in the final Year 1 story of Star Traks: Crash Course.

1 You think human S&M women are rough? Vexnar bit the head off a squirrel, and Pleasure Mistresses still frighten him. (Of course, they turn him on even more, which is all the more frightening.)

2 Comm-Badging – Yup, this is a blatant rip-off. A certain Canadian school offers distinctive cap-badges upon completion of a certain orientation period. Trekkie spoof.

3 A certain university in Canada has an equivalent, known unofficially as the 'Frat & Puke'.

4 Cardassians: Bad guys, and ugly too.

5 The Explorer Project is the Starfleet program featured in Star Traks: The Vexed Generation. The USS Explorer and the USS Tracker are both assigned to this project, and either ship is capable of providing Starfleet with ample embarrassment.

6 Horta – From the original Trek, these aliens resemble piles of rocks. They live underground, and use powerful acids to burrow through solid rock.

7 I have no idea what this means. I borrowed it from a scene in Star Traks: The Lost Years story 9. All I know is that it's polite for Andorians.


	6. Year 1 - Cool Down

Copyright 2008

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

1.6 – "Cool Down"

"The test will begin in glorx seconds. Glorx…glorb…fingle. The test is underway."

"Let's DO this!" Marc Malespere cried, flinging himself into motion as the Academy Fitness Test (AFT) began.

"Wha?" Kumari exclaimed, stumbling as the testing apparatus lurched into motion, "No fair! What language is that anyway?"

"Who cares about the language?" Veksai grumbled, "Who the hell invented these ridiculous things?"

"The Vulcans," Bahred said. He was having no difficultly whatsoever.

The bizarre contraptions used for the first part of the test resembled giant hamster wheels. Dozens of EngOps cadets were lined up in the Academy Fitness Center, trying to keep up as the wheels began to turn. Unfortunately for the cadets, the wheels didn't just spin…they spontaneously (and without warning) changed speed and even pivoted. In the end, the cadets had to pay careful attention to make sure they matched the movements of the spinning wheels, which to Bahred seemed like an odd combination of a treadmill and a mechanical bull. So far though, aside from the initial surprise, they hadn't had much trouble keeping up with the changes. On their first AFT, during SNAP, Kodene had simply twined its tentacles around the wheel and allowed itself to spin with it. Unfortunately, they'd disqualified him and made him take the retest after that.

"Level five," announced the computer voice. There were yelps all around the room as the wheels pivoted hard to the left. Two cadets fell to the floor, hitting the mats with a thud. One of the test administrators walked over to the closets one.

"Rigillian, male, 18 standard years," the administrator said calmly, "Level five. You fail. Re-test is in two weeks,"

The Brute Squad cadets would have watched as the dejected cadet left the room, but they were understandably busy.

"Level six," announced the voice. This time over a dozen cadets fell (or jumped down) from their wheels.

"Are we done?" Baxter asked, sweat already pouring down his face.

"Only if you're a woman, a Horta or over 40 standard years old," Gallium gasped.

"We are so not done this!" Malespere exclaimed, "Let's go people, let's show them what Antares Sector can do! Let's PUSH IT!"

"Level seven,"

"AIIIIIEEEEE!" Kumari cried, falling from her wheel and cart wheeling through the air.

"Human, female, 18 standard years. You pass," one of the administrators said, leaning over the Indian girl.

"Thanks," Kumari said, holding her head and trying to make her world stop spinning.

After several more tests the cadets were excused for the day. Veksai, Igor and Fastocheni were walking back to Fort Pike when Gallium jogged up beside them.

"Hey guys!" he said "Guess what I got my girlfriend for Valentine's Day!"

"It's not Valentine's Day yet," Igor said, "It's still January! We've only been back at school for two weeks!"

"Girlfriend," Fastocheni mused, "Would this be the girlfriend that none of us has ever met?"

"That some of us think may be fictitious?" Veksai suggested, exchange a glance with Fast.

"She's real!" Gallium protested.

"Annnnd…you bought her a thong…" Igor said slowly.

"I think he bought himself a thong," Veksai suggested.

"Ooohhh, good thought!"

"It's not for me, and I'm not into that kind of thing!" Gallium said.

"Uh-huh,"

"Sure,"

"Hey, aren't you on the uniform redesign committee?" Veksai asked suddenly, "Y'know, the one that's trying to give us something a bit more distinctive than the regular fleet wear?"

"Oh, it's going to be fantastic!" Gallium said, excitedly, "We're modeling the new designs for the Commandant next week! They're going to be great! Oh, and we found this great fabric…it's so stretchy, it makes it easier for the uniforms to fit different species…"

The other cadets exchanged a look.

"What?" Gallium asked, looking at the three of them in confusion.

"You are SO gay," Igor giggled.

Unfortunately, a passing senior-classmen didn't appreciate Igor's opinion, which led to a very vocal dressing-down and an impromptu lecture on humanoid equality. Once they were finished being yelled at, they resumed their trek back to Fort Pike.

After three weeks of holiday vacation, Brute Squad, Antares Sector and the rest of the Academy had returned from visiting friends, family and so forth to face another semester at the Academy. For some of the lower-classmen cadets, the decision to return had been an easy one, though for different reasons. Gallium had fallen right into the Academy lifestyle, and nothing short of a restraining order could keep him away. Veksai, on the other hand, didn't see that he had much of a choice. He'd pretty much given up the life he'd had for the Academy, and turning back wasn't much of an option. That wasn't to say he wanted to…he'd actually found that by the time his vacation was ending, he was almost eager to get back to see the rest of Brute Squad again. Some cadets, however, were not happy to back, and some had even gone so far as to resign.

It was something that intellectually everybody knew could happen. They weren't bound to the Academy or to Starfleet until they started their junior year; they could leave at any time. One bit of paperwork and poof…they could be civilians again. Brute Squad had lost Zenith and Val'gural before SNAP had even ended. Still, after all the work they'd already put into their first few months at the Academy, after the chaos of SNAP and the victory of the Survival Challenge, the idea that somebody would up and quit just when things were getting easier seemed…alien.

The second semester was definitely ripe with changes, and the loss of some classmates wasn't the least of them. Two more changes were waiting for them when they got back to Fort Pike.

"Here are your new staff and room assignments," mid-classman Kethnor said, stopping Veksai and handing him a padd as the group of cadets entered the Brute Squad hallway.

"Huh?"

"We change rooms and Team Leaders every semester," Gallium said, "Didn't you know? We have a new Sector Leader, a new Cadet Executive Officer, all that stuff."

"I…I never really thought about it," Veksai admitted, "Soo…our SNAP staff is-"

"No longer your concern," Kethnor said gruffly, "Do not get all sentimental, human. Your new Team Leader will be more than adequate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go hunt and kill something,"

They watched as the former SNAP Team Leader stalked away.

"Wait, you've got junior-classmen Prithar for your Team Leader?" Igor asked, looked at the padd.

"Yeah, and you for a roommate," Veksai said, frowning. He shrugged. "I can live with that."

"Just don't go 'pirating' any of my stuff!" Igor said.

"Is that an Orion joke?" Veksai chuckled, "Please. If I'm going to steal something, it may as well be something worth stealing!"

"I've got mid-classman Noig as a Team Leader," Gallium said, "But that doesn't make sense…I know he's in Panther Squad this semester."

"That can't be right!"

Having noticed their confusion, mid-classman Buhras sauntered over.

"What's up?" she asked. They quickly explained the situation.

"It's all right," she said, her usual giggles replaced by her more serious 'business face'. We're spreading you out throughout the Sector. Antares does it all the time."

"Sooo…we're not Brute Squad anymore?" Veksai asked.

"Somebody will be," Buhras said sharply, "Antares has three Squads, and you need to learn that you're part of our Sector now, not just part of your own little lower-classman Squad. Now, if you'll excuse me, I…I have to go…yell at Malespere for…for something…"

She turned and stalked away, much like Kethnor had.

"I think they're really going to miss us," Fastocheni observed.

That weekend was a frenzy of activity. No matter whether you were moving from one planet to another, or just to another floor in the same building, moving days were ALWAYS frenzies of activity.

"Why are we moving out of our hallway?" Quarterman demanded, "What's the point? I wanna live next to you guys, not a bunch of strange senior cadets!"

"I hear they want to mix us up with the rest of the Sector," Derok, the Tellarite cadet, said while watching hier pack hier things into a box, "Like, to let us get to know everybody better,"

"Does every Sector do this?"

"Nope, just Antares!" this time it was mid-classman Drain, the dog-like alien having just stopped by the door, "We do things a bit differently. Lt. Wellington and the Antares Sector Leaders usually find that this helps you lowers blend in,"

"That's smart!" Derok exclaimed, "Why doesn't everybody do it?"

"Because breaking up the lower-classman squad probably takes away their easy source of slave labour," Quarterman groused.

"Bingo!" Drain said. He broke out into gruff chuckles, having apparently found the word amusing for some reason.

"So, cutie, what brings you down here?" Quarterman asked, eager for an excuse to stop packing "you just chatting, or did you want to spend some time with little old me?"

"Actually, I'm waiting for you to get out. This is my room now," Drain said.

Quarterman started turning red.

"Do you hear shouting?" M'Kr'gr asked Fastocheni as the two of them packed up their room.

"Somebody must have made a joke about Quarterman having balls again," Fast said.

"But s/he-"

"I really don't want to think about it," Fast cut the reptilian cadet off, "Um, how was your holiday?"

"You mean my week-long trip to the Parian system, which left me with barely a week to visit my 'family', which consists of near-identical, artificially created clones?" M'Kr'gr growled.

"Er…yeah. That."

"My girlfriend was happy to see me," Mr'Kr'gr shrugged.

"If you're all clones…"

"We are different enough!" the reptile snapped. He was getting tired of explaining just how a species that had been artificially created now found itself having to kick its reproduction into overdrive to perpetuate the species.

"Sooo…" Fastocheni said slowly, looking for a change in topic, "I hear everybody else is moving out of Fort Pike."

"You hear right," Veksai said from outside the door, a large box of uniform parts in his hands, "We're going to be the only Sector living here,"

"Feels like we were already,"

"Veltran Sector was up on the fourth floor," Veksai explained, "They're going into Fort Elgar, the new building. Bajor Sector was on the third floor, they're going into Fort Castellani-"

"Veltran Sector? Never heard of that place. Why do we have a cadet Sector named after them?"

"They're relatively new, I think," Veksai shrugged.

"Whatchu guys talking about? Dylan Baxter asked, stopping and joining the conversation. (It was a constant truth of living in the cadet dormitories…people wandered in and out of conversations like birds flitting in and out of trees.)

"How come everybody except us is moving into new and renovated buildings, while we stay in this death-trap," Fastocheni said.

"Aww, come on," Baxter laughed, "Who cares? What's to say those other buildings are any better?"

"I did an article on them for the Academy newsletter," Veksai sighed, "Y'know, 'Explorations'?"

"They nice?"

There was a loud THUD from the general 'up' direction; probably a Bajoran Sector cadet dropping something. A small piece of Fast and M'Kr'gr's ceiling cracked, broke and fell to the floor.

"Very nice," Veksai said dryly.

"So, you like, write stuff?" Baxter said, suddenly yet unsurprising distracted from the previous topic, "That's cool!"

"He goes into town every weekend," Fastocheni said. He and Veksai often left the building around the same time, though Fast was off to fencing as opposed to town.

"Aww, I'm too hung over to do anything useful on the weekend," Baxter giggled.

"Life of an artsman," Veksai grumbled.

"Dude, you should like, totally write something about us!" Baxter exclaimed, "Like a story, or even a mini-series! That would be SOOO cool!"

The former Brute Squad cadets exchanged a glance.

"Why would I want to do that?" Veksai wondered.

"Because we're cool and exciting!" Baxter said happily.

"No comment," Veksai said, picking his box back up and heading towards his new room.

"What do you think, frog-face?" Baxter asked M'Kr'gr, punching the larger alien on the shoulder.

"Get out, human," M'Kr'gr growled.

"Geez, get a sense of humour!"

As the weeks passed, the Antares Sector lowers fell back into a routine. It was almost the same routine they'd had in the first semester: Classes, mandatory sports, duty shifts, studying, Sector briefings, Academy form-ups and etc. The difference was that instead of being tossed into the fray, like they were with SNAP, this time they were given more of a chance to ease into the semester. And, unlike the first semester, there was actual free time for leisure activities right off the start, though more for some than for others. Fastocheni, Lucile Verone and Bahred were all on Academy sports teams, which saw them leaving for various games and competitions on the weekends. Veksai, in addition to his weekend forays to town, played with one of the Academy music groups and wrote for the Academy newsletter. And the artsmen cadets could be found suffering from genuine alcohol hangovers every single weekend.

By all rights, it should have been an easier semester than the first one.

Should have been, Veksai mused as he stepped off the tram and onto the bustling streets of San Francisco. He was walking towards one of his favourite coffee shops, padd in hand, ready for a productive morning. He was also wearing the drab, Class-D uniform that lower-classmen were forced to wear whenever they left the Academy. Around him, he could see more than the occasional stare as civilians walked by. A group of young students wearing Federation University jackets gave him a mocking glance as they passed by. Not two minutes later, a Vulcan child pointed and asked his mother 'why is that human dressed so illogically?'.

Veksai fumed. He wouldn't be dressed like this if some uppity senior-classman, whichever one it was, hadn't decided that the lower-classmen had to wear uniforms in town for another semester. He was years older than these people, what f**king right did they have to tell him how to dress during his off hours! Wasn't it enough that the Academy had determined his course schedule, his roommate, his cloths while he was on duty and most of his extra-curricular activities, they wanted to control what he wore on his off-hours too? Wasn't it enough that they were piling assignment after mid-term after quiz on him? Wasn't it enough that he was trying to do, in four years, a degree program that would take the average university student five or six?

Unaware that he was now scowling strongly enough to frighten small children, he entered his café of choice, a small, comfortable establishment owned by a young human couple. He could have gone to the Beanus Coffee Hut closer to the tram station, or to Scotty's, one of the lounges on the Academy campus, but something about putting a large body of water between himself and the Academy had become very soothing.

He settled himself into an empty seat, coffee, padd and some sort of Vulcan pastry all arrayed in front of him on the table. He opened up his current story, something about a group of officer-cadets at one of Earth's 21st Century military colleges. Hmmm. If Kumari were a girl in the 2000s, would she still be a princess? Probably not, Veksai decided, but she'd probably still act like it.

Burying himself in the imaginary and trying to forget how stressful his life had become, Veksai started writing.

As Veksai tried to forget that he was in public wearing a uniform that looked like footie-pyjamas, Kumari was in one of the lower-classman laboratories in Khitomer Building. She was still having a really hard time in her Non-Einsteinian Physics class, and had logged herself for some extra lab time. Unfortunately, that meant she was all alone in the lab. There were no lab assistants, no professors and no other students. Just herself, a complicated looking assembly and the automatic computer safety cut-offs.

After nearly an hour of painstaking work, she was almost ready to start her experiment. It wasn't too bad: a simple shield generator sat on her work-bench, and a low-powered phaser array had been carefully calibrated to fire a beam that would cause the shield to destabilize. All she had to do was take some measurements and then she could enjoy the rest of her weekend.

"Hey, Kumari!"

It was Crott, one of her classmates. A Brikar, Crott resembled some kind of walking geological formation. His head was blocky, and his extremely thick skin looked almost like granite. He was also loud, slightly obnoxious and not especially careful when it came to the softer-skinned beings around him, leading to a few minor injuries.

"Hi Crott," Kumari said, "What's up?"

"I've got an itch I can't scratch," Crott said in his deep, deep voice, "I need some of the…oh, there it is! Most excellent!"

To Kumari's dismay, he proceeded to activate her experimental phaser, then stood right in front of it, sighing in pleasure as the beam seared into his back, barely leaving a mark on the thick, dense hide. After a few moments, the beam cut out.

"Much better," he said. As he turned to leave, one heavy arm brushed against the weak shield bubble. With a small puff of smoke and a half-hearted spark, the generator died.

Kumari could only stare in horror at the ruined mess of her experiment, her heart dropping as she considered just how long it was going to take her to fix this mess.

Later that evening, Igor and Gallium were seated in Scotty's, the Academy lounge most popular with the human students. The Andorians and the few Klingon students preferred The Warrior`s Den, with its heavy metal architecture, sparring ring and in-house infirmary. The Vulcan students preferred the soothing teas and utter silence of The Meditative Sphinx. The two cadets sat in a pair of armchairs, next to a panoramic wall of windows that looked out at the Academy grounds.

"Aw, c'mon man! I know I'm good in bed!" Malespere was boasting loudly at a nearby table, "I always get off!"

"That's an interesting way to put it," Gallium mused.

"I don't want to think about it," Igor said.

"Huh. Hey, did T'Henki talk to you about the Sector photos we're taking next week?"

"No," Igor said, "She never talks to me. Actually, I don't think any of the higher years talk to me much…or to most of us!"

"Oh, no!" Gallium said, "Malesphere and Buhras get along really good. And T'Henki and I are both taking the emergency medical course together."

"Yeah, that doesn't do the rest of us much good," Igor said, "I dunno…I just thought that we'd be treated a bit…differently, now that we're spread out in the Sector,"

"We are," Gallium said, his face looking as earnest as ever, "you just haven't noticed yet!"

"Yeah, well."

They watched as Malesphere continued joking around with the other cadets, none of them people that Gallium or Igor knew.

"You boys having fun?" Bahred asked, coming up and taking a seat. The three of them looked slightly ridiculous; sitting in the lounge, a pitcher of synthoholic1 beer in front of them and all still dressed in the ridiculous Class-D uniforms. Behind them, a fish aquarium bubbled, tiny multicoloured fish swimming happily away.

"Who are those guys that Malespere's hanging out with?" Gallium asked.

"Red Squad," Bahred said, "Marc's trying to get onto the Squad,"

"Huh?" Igor looked confused, "He's leaving Antares Sector?"

"No, no!" Bahred said quickly, "He'd just be living with them, and doing different extra-curricular activities and stuff,"

Red Squad was the Academy's 'elite' cadet squad, as much as a cadet could be elite. Aside from their standard classes, members of Red Squad were given the privilege of receiving advanced training, extra PT workouts and of taking part in the annual Solarious Contest, in which teams from Starfleet Academy, the Andorian Death Squads, the Klingon Imperial Academy and various other military and para-military training centers competed in a variety of tasks. Few cadets were chosen for Red Squad due to the physical and mental demands. (And because relatively few cadets applied.) On the other hand, the superior attitudes adopted by many Red Squad members had fostered more than a bit of resentment among the other cadets. Malespere, however, had found the 'Let's f**king do this!' attitude of Red Squad to be a perfect match for his own.

Akavarti Kumari trudged over to the table, a long look on her face.

"What's up, Varti?" Bahred asked.

"Lab experiment. Crott's an ass. I'm very tired." Kumari said, plopping into a seat, "And what the heck is Marc doing?"

Malesphere, by this time, had his hands on those of a female Red Squad cadet and was turning his most charming smile in her direction. The girl giggled, evidently flattered.

"He's…working on his social networking," Bahred said.

"HEEEEYYYY!"

They turned and were utterly unsurprised to see Dylan Baxter and Kodene walking (and slithering) towards them. Baxter had another full pitcher of been in his hand, and Kodene had a strange, bulbous, steaming barrel of some Velvattian beverage. Quarterman was close behind.

"This is turning into a Brute Squad night," Igor commented.

"Nothing wrong with that!" Gallium said cheerfully.

"Who's ready to get haaaaaammmered?" Baxter asked, sloshing beer on his shoes as he plopped into another chair.

"Not me," Kumari groaned, "I've had SUCH a bad day,"

"Bad day?" Igor leaned on the table, "This is turning into a bad month! I failed my n-Dimensional Hyper-Calculus test last week!"

"Then you really need one!" Baxter said, passing them glasses.

"Maybe," Kumari muttered, taking a sip. She looked out across the lounge, and noticed a tall, red-headed human looking her way. He quickly looked away, then moved towards the bar.

"So, like, are you guys coming to the Platform this weekend?" Baxter slurred, referring to a popular club in San Fransisco, "Everybody's gonna be there! It's gonna be awesome!"

"I have to work on my n-Dimensional Hyper-Calculus," Kumari said, her eyes still off in the direction of the red-headed cadet.

"I have to study, too," Igor said glumly, "Before I fail the whole course,"

"I should be studying," Quarterman said brightly, "But I wanna come too!"

"Atta gurl!" Baxter exclaimed, holding his hand up for a high-five.

"No can do bro," Bahred said, "I have swim team practice Sunday morning." His eyes flickered over towards Kodene, "Um…"

Kodene turned its heavy bulk in Bahred's direction.

"What," it said, vapours from its drink escaping its vertical mouth-slit.

"Ah, well, nothing," Bahred said quickly, "It's just…the last time I swam against a Valvattian, it tried to eat me,"

"Humans are delicious," Kodene said.

"HEY!" Quarterman snapped, "What kinda thing is that to say?"

As the conversation/argument ensued, nobody noticed Baxter staring at one of Kodene's egg nodules with an expression mixed between bewilderment and fascination. Kodene was usually very carefully about packaging them in stasis pods and shipping them back to its homeworld. Being a bit drunk, it'd missed a couple that night. Baxter slowly reached out a finger and poked the nearest pod. It fell of, with Baxter barely catching it. He stared at the tiny pod, about the size of a grape, with a small outline already visible inside.

"Nastly, " he muttered, tossing it over his shoulder and into the fish tank.

"My girlfriend and I are going to Los Angeles next weekend," Gallium was saying.

"His 'girlfriend'," Igor made little air quotes.

"Pool, now," Kodene said, "I am going to destroy you,"

"UHHH I GOTTA GO!" Bahred said quickly, slipping out of his seat and rushing for another crowd of cadets, slipping frightened-looking glances in Kodene's direction.

"You're on!" Baxter said to the squid-like alien, the two of them heading to one of the pool tables lining the far wall, "Hey, what's with Bahred? He that scared of people playing with big sticks?"

"You gonna come watch?" Quarterman asked Kumari.

"Hmm? No," the brown-skinned girl said, "I'm trying to figure out who that is," she pointed at the red-head.

"Never seen him before," Quaterman said, "Go say hi,"

"What? No! Why?"

"Go see him, yes, because you're interested. And he's looking back right now, so he's interested too,"  
"Then why doesn't he come over here?"

"Wow, you really haven't dated much, have you?"

"Have too!"

"Uh-huh," Quarterman crossed her arms, "Varti, we don't even have men on my planet and I still know that the cute ones like that are too terrified to come talk to anything that has a pair of breasts,"

"What?"

"Guys are scared of them," Quarterman said, cupping her own playfully and drawing many interested looks from the surrounding male cadets, "It's funny!"

"I just don't get how you manage on a planet without men," Varti said, shuddering delicately.

"Well, sometimes I'm the girl, sometimes s/he's the girl," Quarterman's eyes took on a mischievous gleam, "sometimes we're both the girl,"

"OK, fine, I'll go talk to him!" Kumari sighed, draining her beer and rising. She sat back down, "Later."

"Honey, you need to grow a pair," Quarterman said, eying one of the cadets who was still looking in hier direction.

Mid-term season came, mid-term season went. As it had been in the first semester, second semester again saw it as a time of stress, studying and in some cases near-panic. Kumari, Bahred and Malespere responded by tightening their group study sessions, while Veksai once again withdrew to his room, burying himself in his work and only occasionally popping his head out to ask a question, or to answer a question somebody had brought to him. Veksai had been surprised at how quickly his academic skills had apparently returned; even through the workload was heavy, he wasn't freaking out as badly as he'd been in during the first semester. Of course, he'd been playing catch-up after over half a decade outside the educational system…

Many of the cadets were still juggling multiple tasks. Everybody was again playing on one of the Sector sports teams, except for the cadets like Fastocheni and Wind, who played on Academy teams; fencing and Tae Kwan Do respectively. Everybody had been surprised at Wind; the quiet, shy Asian girl didn't say much around the Sector lines, but she was apparently capable of breaking a Klingon in half. Language lessons were continuing, with much grumbling about how pointless it was to learn another language with Universal Translators everywhere. Still, Vexnar was more than willing to help out those cadets who needed to work on their Andorian, and Kethnor and those studying Klingon could be heard shouting up a storm at least once a week. Various other bits of Academy minutia were piled atop the plate as well. Duty shifts for the lower-classmen, Academy form-ups twice a week, which saw all Sectors of the Academy gathering on the Parade Ring to be addressed by the Commendant or the Director of Cadets, the DirKat, usually before the sun was fully up. Garbage sweeps around the now-nearly-deserted Fort Pike, morning exercises, briefings, meetings…it was amazing the sort of things you could squeeze into that first hour of the day before classes started. Once a week, half a morning was set aside for various serving officers or officials to come in and speak to different cadet groups. For example, one morning saw the lower-classmen listening to a rather boring, long-winding briefing about the importance of Humanoid Resources by a tall, blond woman with black eye shadow, lipstick and nail polish. The mid-classmen, on the other hand, enjoyed a briefing by an older looking Admiral on the upcoming expansions to the Waystation Project, whatever the hell the Waystation Project was. Adon Solaris, one of the Antares Sector mid-classmen, had dozed through the briefing and for some reason thought it had had something to do with dumbbells.

Through it all, hard at work, usually tired (in the case of the Eng/Ops students) or hung-over (in the case of Baxter, Kodene and Nuhville) the lower-classmen did notice that the semester was a lot more…comfortable, than the last. Their dispersal into the Sector had actually turned out to be an excellent move, as they were now becoming friends with the mid-, junior- and even senior-classmen of the Sector. Friendships were forming between cadets of different Sectors, usually through shared classes or sports teams, and many lower-classmen were finally starting to feel comfortable living on the campus.

A few others, not so much.

"You don't look so good," Cadet Cheng, an older lower-classman and one of Veksai's classmates said to him one morning.

"I don't feel so good," Veksai muttered. They were sitting in one of the lecture halls, waiting for their Linear Temporal Theory class to begin.

"Too much schoolwork?" Cheng asked.

"Naw, the schoolwork's not as bad this semester," Veksai said, looking around, "it's…well…living with a bunch of 19 year-olds. It's getting to me,"

"Ahhh," Cheng nodded, understanding.

"I lived on my own for years, now I'm sharing a room with a 19 year-old kid with stinky feet," Veksai grumbled, "I mean, don't get me wrong, Igor's a good guy, I just don't him sleeping three feet away from he. And frick'n Baxter is always running or stumbling up and down the halls shouting about something or other…and yesterday, a pack of Red Squad cadets ran by carrying a dead fish! What they hell were they doing with a dead fish in the middle of Fort Pike?"

"Ohhh…so that's where it came from. Somebody put a dead fish on one of the Red Squad cadets' pillow.

"WHO THE HELL DOES THAT!" Veksai exclaimed, "That's…that's…NUTS!"

"It's all in fun, right man?"

"Yeah, well," Veksai grumbled, "Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I'd just stayed on Waystation and gone to the Academy Annex. At least then I'd only have the classes, not all this extra crap,"

"Yeah well. Here you get the extra prestige of going to the Academy itself, right?" Cheng said.

"Whoop-de-doo," muttered Veksai as the professor walked in to begin the lecture.

Later that day, Veksai was getting back into Fort Pike when Malespere came up the hallway, a big grin on his face.

"Did ya hear the news man? I totally made Red Squad!" he exclaimed.

Veksai smiled politely.

"That's…nice. I'm sure you'll…enjoy it."

"Dude, you've been writing for the Academy newsletter, right?" Malespere asked.

"Uh-huh,"

"You should totally do a piece on Red Squad! I mean, we're totally the best here at the Academy, I bet everybody wants to know what we do!"

Veksai smiled politely again. Fat chance!

Strangely enough, less then a week later, his editor, mid-classman Armand, sent him to the phaser range to interview Red Squad cadets. So, padd in hand, he found himself talking to several different cadets, each of them saying almost the exact same thing.

"…totally wanna represent the Academy, show those other teams we're the greatest..."

"…Starfleet Academy has won the Solarious Competition 4 years in a row, and I want to make sure that…"

"…we're totally a team, and we're totally committed to being the best, and you know of course we are the best the Academy has…"

"…knowing you are the best…"

"…really tough to get on the squad, only the best make it, of course…"

"…it's good that they moved us into our own building, away from the rest of our Sectors, so we can really focus on our own team dynamic, without being distracted by…y'know…the 'average' students…"

Veksai kept his mouth shut and avoided pointing out the fact that less than 10% of the Academy even bothered trying out for Red Squad.

"It was nuts," Veksai was saying to Gallium as the two of them sat in Fort Pike's dilapidated lounge. The replicator was broken, the walls were damaged, and the only channel that was coming in on the viewscreen was UFPN. "It was like talking to a bunch of brainwash victims. Are you guys really that…impressionable?"

"What do you mean 'you guys'?" Gallium wanted to know.

"Some of us," Veksai gave a wry grin, "Are older and a bit more worldly than the rest of you," And far more mature, he mentally added as a trio of Red Squad cadets came barrelling past the lounge door, a very large pot spewing purple steam suspended between them.

"What the…"

"I don't even want to know," Veksai shook his head, "At least they're a bit more creative than frickin' Baxter and his drunked antics. I swear, sometimes it feels like I'm living in a nuthouse!"

"Baxter's antics can be pretty creative," Gallium said, giving that oh-so-earnest expression he always got when he was explaining something, "did you know he threw his shoes out the window of his hover-car two weeks ago?"

"Why the hell would he do that?"

"He was drunk," Gallium shrugged, "Kodene was piloting, and Baxter got all excited because Valvattians don't wear shoes,"

"Again, drunken antics," Veksai sighed, "Like Quarterman chasing after cadets of any conceivable gender, or Vexnar climbing onto the roof and singing Andorian love ballads."

"Is that what that was? I thought he was just howling at the moon,"

"The point is," Veksai said, "It's scary, honestly. I mean, I know I'm not perfect, but at least I seem to be aware of just how much some of us have started to change since we got here. I understand that the Red Squad has some really good people, and I understand that they need a certain amount of, um, team spirit. But I really have to wonder if the cadets in Red Squad understand just how that sort of elitist attitude affects the way the rest of the Academy looks at them.

"I dunno," Gallium shrugged, "I really don't pay much attention to Red Squad,"

"Why not?" Veksai leaned forward, "You're in really good shape, you've got a lot of drive…you probably could have made it on to Red Squad!"

"Yeah, but I have too much other stuff to do," Gallium said, "Extra training? You've gotta be nuts to sign up for that. Besides, I like living here with the rest of the Sector, especially now that the higher years are starting to treat us like living things instead of furniture,"

"Hmm? I hadn't really noticed," Veksai mused. He sighed.

"Huh. I thought an old man like you would notice things like that."

Veksai felt a sudden flash of anger.

"Old man? I'll show you old man!" And he proceeded to grab Gallium by the scruff of his blue-skinned neck, toss him out of the lounge and slam the 'door close' button.

"Feeling better?" Gallium's muffled voice came through the panels.

"Much, actually." Veksai admitted

As finals approached the lower-classmen glanced with amazement at their calendars, wondering just where their first year had gone. The restrictions on wearing civilians clothing was lifted on campus, and finally, a week before finals were to start, lower-classmen were allowed to wear their civilian cloths to town on their off-hours. The senior cadets at the college made a point of informing them that if fewer lowers had been caught trying to sneak off campus in civilian cloths earlier in their year, they would have earned the privilege weeks if not months sooner. (Of course, those lowers who had been caught never seemed to understand just why everybody else was now pissed off at them.) Malespere was almost never seen in the Antares Sector lines, having taken up residence with Red Squad, thought he still came by to visit Kumari and Bahred, and to explain to anybody who would listen just why Red Squad was so great. Veksai continued throwing Gallium out of random rooms, and found that this simple action, in combination with the onset of spring, was doing wonders for his mood. Every week, it seemed, something new was happening, though as lower-classmen still rushing to get their studies in, they were unaware of much of it. The annual Quo'nos Exchange weekend, which saw an exchange of cadets between the Klingon Imperial Academy and Starfleet Academy blew right by. They noticed the extra Klingons walking around, which in the past would have been far more exciting, but having lived with Kethnor for almost two semesters had desensitized them somewhat.2

Finals came and went, much as they had before Christmas. The biggest change was the growing undercurrent of excitement among the senior-classmen. For them, these were the last exams they would write before graduating the Academy and leaving for their first postings. As lower-classmen, it was hard for much of the former Brute Squad cadets to imagine what they were feeling, though Veksai was reminded of what it had been like for him to graduate college, the first time. Granted, his little diploma didn't require anywhere near as much effort as the Academy was demanding, and an Academy degree was far more prestigious…

Veksai smirked to himself, shaking his head. When he'd been lecturing Gallium on just how much the younger cadets had changed since joining the Academy, he hadn't, for one second, believed that he was immune. He'd always, for example, felt a strong distain for anybody who paraded around their credentials, feeling that somebody's skills and abilities spoke louder than a piece of paper declaring them a university graduate. Now, here he was, considering just how much an Academy degree would help his future.

Silently vowing to never, ever hide behind his credentials, Veksai leaned back in his chair, looking around at the small room in Fort Pike that he now shared with Igor. Igor was fast asleep on the other bunk, his large (and incredibly smelly) feet hanging off one side, as usual. The walls were cracked, the paint chipped and peeling, and the desks and computer terminals were more than a bit battered. They'd been told by Lt. Wellington, the Antares Sector Commander, that they would be moving into Fort Hillier when they returned from their summer training. They'd also been told by the mid- and senior-classmen that the same promise had been made for the past two years, and not to bank on it.

Personally, Veksai wanted to move into a building that didn't have an irremovable growth of mould filling the bathtub.

"Ladies, gentlemen and other distinguished guests," senior-classmen Black, current Cadet Executive Officer declared, his amplified voice carrying over the Parade Ring as his image was projected up onto the sides of Khitomer Building, "Welcome to Graduation Parade Ceremonies for the Graduating Class of 59000!" He paused, looking sternly out from the camera, "At least, that's what the MC is going to say, right before Commodore Lahaw'soon marches on to address the parents and such. You're going to be standing at ease for a good half hour when he's doing that, so let's practice that now…"

Standing in rank with several other members of Antares Sector, M'Kr'gr groaned inwardly. Towering a good half-foot over the rest of the Antares cadets, except for the gigantic junior-classman Dril, any movement he made would be spotted immediately by the drill instructors patrolling the Parade Ring.

Just like the Comm-Badging Ceremony and their weekly morning formations, each Sector was formed up on the outer edge of the Parade Ring. Terran Sector, having won the Commandent's Cup last year, was formed up directly in front of the podium on which Black was standing, with the rest of the sectors being arranged based on their rankings. Antares Sector, being midway in the rankings, was formed up on the far side of the building, watching one of the screens. The ring of cadets completely surrounded the building, with the lowest ranking sector formed up on the opposite flank of Terran sector from the second highest ranking sector. Unlike the standard parades, the cadets on parade consisted primarily of lower and junior-classmen, there to perform the graduation parade for the senior-classmen who were formed up in a similar ring along the inner edge of the Parade Ring, with each Sector's senior-classmen facing their comrades. The lower years held phaser rifles set to fire only ceremonial shots, while the senior-classmen held ceremonial swords, each one a design based on the home-world of the graduating cadet in question. During a practice session for the parade, the Andorian cadets had been quick to brag that they had the biggest equipment on parade, hefting gigantic, multi-bladed monstrosities. The Bajoran cadets, sporting compact short-swords, were quick to counter that it wasn't the size of your blade that mattered, but the sharpness of the edge. The lower years, bored with the whole argument and having been waiting for ages to return their phaser power packs to the armoury , had revived an old Earth tradition known as 'The Wave', and managed to pass the wave through the ring-shaped throng of cadets surrounding Khitomer building three times before one of the drill instructors, a crusty-looking Chief Petty Officer climbed up on the podium and screamed, in an amplified voice, that 'You DO NOT do the WAVE during an AMMO DECLARATION!'3.

There was a grunt, followed by a splat as Cadet Guthar lost his battle against the shining sun and passed out, falling to the concrete surface of the Parade Ring and breaking his nose. One of the response teams patrolling the Parade Ring (knows as the 'Pancake Patrol') rushed forward to retrieve him. A few files down, Gallium was turning an unhealthy shade of teal.

"Ok everybody, that's enough of that," Black announced, "Let's go through the march past again, then we'll practice the marching off of the graduating class. Another three or four hours and we'll call it quits."

Baxter abruptly doubled over, spewing vomit all over the concrete.

"Welcome to 'Drill Fest 59' Vexnar commented snidely.

A week later, it was time for the real thing.

The cadets were formed up around Khitomer Building, exactly as they had been for the practices. Now however, instead of wearing their standard grey uniforms, they were dressed in the formal maroon tunics, tunics that hadn't been worn by an active officer in over 100 years. Next years Sector Leaders stood in front of their mid-,junior-and lower-year cadets, the current Sector Leaders having joined the graduating cadets in the inner ring. Mid-classman Buhras, soon to be senior-classman, Sector Leader Buhras, stood in front of Antares Sector, struggling to keep her customary grin hidden.

"…this is what Starfleet Academy is all about, ladies and gentlemen:" the Commandant was saying to the crowd of spectators, primarily consisting of proud parents, "Producing leaders; young beings who will now go out into the Fleet, bringing with them the knowledge and experience they've picked up during their time here."

He continued speaking for some time, but most of the Antares cadets weren't paying attention. The lower-classmen, having never seen an actual Academy Graduation Parade before, had their eyes locked on the senior-classmen. No, that wasn't really accurate anymore, was it? The Commandant had already distributed the commissioning scrolls; they were now looking at the newest commissioned officers in the Fleet. Ensign Mecablox stood next to Ensign Parami, Ensign R'karsen and the rest of the Antares Sector graduates. Any minute now, the Commandant would finish his speech, and then next years Cadet Executive Officer, mid-classman Plasem, would give the order for the graduating class to march off the Parade Ring and down the main thoroughfare to the Academy gates, where they would be dismissed for the last time4.

"Class of 59000, will march off, in Sectors," mid-classman Plasem called out, "Slow, march!"

The graduating cadets began moving on their path off the Parade Ring, taking slow, deliberate steps as the Academy Processional was played. Watching them carefully, M'Kr'gr felt a sudden stab of determination: One day, that was going to him up there, sword in hand, moving off the Academy grounds as a newly commissioned ensign. Around him, Fastocheni, Igor, Veksai, Quarterman, Kumari and the rest of the Antares Sector lower-classmen, along with all the Academy cadets of all years, stared at the departing class, the exact same thought in each of their heads:

One day, that's going to be me.

End

Next: So what do cadets do to pass the summer? Tropical vacations? Exotic travels? Relaxed weeks spent sitting on one's ass doing nothing? Find out as former Brute Squad compares notes and prepares for a new Academy year in Crash Course 2.1: 'New Arrivals, Round 2'.

1 Synthohol: Like alcohol, but with no hangover. Also, its effects can be dismissed with a mental effort. sigh If only…

2 Exchange Weekend – I was actually out of town for the first exchange weekend, and didn't experience much of it, other than having several American cadets tell me how much more laid-back and relaxed everybody at RMC is compared to Westpoint. I'll probably write more about it for Year 2.

3 Yes. Something very similar to this actually happened.

4 A little side note: The land on which RMC's current main gate sits was part of Navy Bay when the college was founded in the 1870s. A large portion of the bay was filled in during the mid 1900s, making space for sports fields and a new entrance. The old entrance is now the site of the Memorial Arch, built in the 1920s. It is now a tradition that cadets arriving at the college are marched through the Arch at the beginning of FYOP. Following that, they must never again pass under the Arch until they graduate, at which point they are marched through the Arch again as part of the graduation parade.


	7. How I Spent my Summer Vacation

Copyright 2009

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

2.1 – "How I Spent my Summer Vacation"

Ahh, summer. A time for young people across the quadrant, spanning the many planets that followed the Standard education format to relax, chill out and take a break from studying. Whether they were students of a university, college, secondary or primary school, beings of all races were able to take a couple of months out of their respective years to kiss their academics goodbye and do something completely unrelated to their studies.

That is, except for the students of Starfleet Academy.

No sooner had the Graduation Parade finished than a mass exodus from the Academy had begun. Former senior-classmen, now commissioned officers, rushed to pack up their belongings and report to their first assignments; whether that was a ship, a starbase or even one of the specialty training centers. Former mid-classmen, now senior-classmen, rushed off to advanced training, where they would be educated on how they would actually apply their Academy knowledge aboard ship.

As for the former lower-and junior-classmen, it was time for them to get a bit of a taste of just what life in the fleet would be like.

Three months later…

Steven Veksai sat in the food court of the Starfleet Square Mall aboard the Federation Outpost Waystation, wondering just where his summer had gone.

When the summer assignments had come out, Veksai had crossed his fingers for a starship assignment. Having lived on Waystation for several years prior, he already felt like he had a decent understanding of life aboard a space station. Unfortunately, the Academy apparently felt that space stations and Starbases were safer environments for first year cadets. It also helped that space stations weren't likely to get called away on emergencies the way ships were, thus causing said first-year cadets to miss their return to the Academy.

And so Veksai and the other 4-dozen cadets sent to do their Basic Officer Training at Waystation's Academy Annex1 spent a good two months in intensive training, bouncing between classes in the Annex itself, a gruelling routine of discipline and fitness on the Annex training decks in Waystation's lower saucer2 and even two weeks of away-team exercises on a nearby planet. Following the completion of that course, he'd found himself working on Waystation's science team, doing incredibly important work like fetching raktagino, duplicating documents and hunting through the storage bins for whatever spare part the latest stuck-up scientist was demanding.

Now that assignment was ending, and it was time to return to Earth and the Academy for another year. And Veksai found himself really hoping that the stories about the second year being easier were true. The last year had been a good year, but a very tough year, full of changes and challenges. Still, he was really looking forward to getting back to the Academy and seeing the rest of the former Brute Squad cadets. Kumari, Gallium, Bahred, Igor and all the rest. He also couldn't wait to see the new group of lower-classmen, and watch as they went through all the ridiculous crap he'd been put through the year before.

Yup, it was going to be an interesting year!

Aboard the U.S.S. Richelieu, Derok and Gallium were hard at work.

Like Veksai, they'd gone through Basic Officer Training, along with the other few dozen cadets that had been part of their training group. A _Nebula_**-**class training vessel, the Richelieu was a floating training center. Capable of carrying several hundred crew, the Richelieu served multiple purposes: Senior-and mid-level cadets were given the task of actually running the ship, under the supervision of experienced officers. Junior level cadets were put through their officer training. Like Veksai, Derok, Gallium and the rest had been subject to hours of classes, countless inspections, endless evenings spent polishing boots, cleaning phaser rifles and ironing uniforms, and undergoing exhausting physical fitness sessions. Everything from sessions in the ship's gym to running laps around the ring-shaped corridors. They'd even stopped for away-team exercises while the senior-classmen were conducting a study on a planet.

And now, with their basic training finished, they were scrubbing the deck.

"I really don't understand how this is 'on the job training'," Derok complained, "I mean, when I'm an officer, how often am I going to scrub the floor?"

"We're on a ship," Gallium corrected, wincing as one of Derok's large, furry feet swung past his face, "It's called a deck, not a floor. And besides, it's our last day."

"And the bathroom's a 'head'," Derok continued, "I know. But now every time I go, I can't help but think that I'm poo-ing on somebody."

BEEEEPPP!

On ships, space stations and outposts within the general vicinity of Earth, Antares Sector cadets stopped what they were doing as their padds, comm-badges or computer terminals beeped, blooped, vibrated, flashed or otherwise informed them that a message had come in. Checking, they fond the message was from Academy, from the new Antares Sector Administrator.

TO: ANTARES SECTOR CADETS: MID, JUNIOR & SENIOR YEARS

FROM: SENIOR-CLASSMAN NOWEL, ANTARES SECTOR ADMINISTRATOR

SUBJECT: LIVING ARRANGEMENTS

MESSAGE:

Hello Antares,

At the conclusion of the last school year, we were informed that we would be moving out of Fort Pike and into Fort Hillier to allow for the renovations of Fort Pike.

These renovations have been put on hold. As such, we will be remaining in Fort Pike for the next school year. Please note the following:

Additional vaccinations will be distributed immediately on your return to the Academy to protect you against tetanus, asbestos poisoning, toxic moulds and fungal growth. As yet, there is no vaccination for the unknown disease known as the Pike Plague.

The growth of mould in the men's bathtub has gained sentience. Going forward, it would like to be known as 'Roger'.

The exploding toilet problem has been resolved. (We hope. It took a week to reconstruct that mid-classman's colon.)

Thank you, and may God have mercy on our souls.

MESSAGE ENDS

Gallium and Derok exchanged glances. Setting down his padd, Veksai gave a mental shrug. At least he wouldn't have a roommate this year.

As M'kr'gr and Igor rode the tram across the Golden Gate Bridge towards the Academy, Igor couldn't help but notice how different things were from the year before. Back then, he'd been on a shuttle, crowded in with another dozen lower-classmen on their first approach to the Academy. They'd been scared and a little excited, with the rumours and stories about SNAP circulating through the shuttle.

This time, his biggest worry was that M'kr'gr was going to drool on him before they arrived. The giant lizard had fallen asleep after he'd boarded the tram several stations back, after saying a brief hello to Igor.

As the Academy campus came into view, dominated by the gleaming spire of Khitomer Building, Igor tried to mentally ready himself for another semester.

Veksai was walking around the Academy grounds, feeling almost like a stranger in his own house. He'd arrived at the Academy a day or two earlier, and been shocked at just how…relaxed…everything was.

Unlike his arrival a year earlier, nobody met him or the other returning cadets in his shuttle. Nobody had been there screaming at them to get their gear, or to assign them to their Sectors. He'd simply walked over to Fort Pike and been given his new room assignment by Administrator Nowel. Now, he was free to do whatever he wanted until Monday, when the Sector Seniors would start putting everybody through the process of getting ready for another semester.

He started as he heard screaming in the background. Spinning around, he relaxed when he realized that the target wasn't him, but instead a batch of brand new lower-classmen. He watched as about two-dozen scared looking beings of various races climbed unsteadily out of a nearby shuttle, a senior-classman Veksai didn't know screaming that they were wasting his valuable weekend time.

As that particular group of lower-classmen were sorted into their Sectors and led away from the landing field, Veksai realized that this year was definitely going to be different.

For him, at least.

"HEEEYY!" Dylan Baxter shouted, throwing his hands in the air, "DUUUDE!"

"HUMAN!" Kodene exclaimed, slapping two tentacles against Baxter's outstretched hands with a slimy slap.

As the human alcoholic and the squid-alien jabbered about just how much they'd drank over the summer, M'kr'gr and Igor walked through the front doors of Fort Pike. As usual, one of the sliding door panels got stuck halfway through. A firm shove from M'kr'gr knocked the door back on it's track. Hearing the commotion, Veksai and Fastocheni came down the hall leading to the Panther Squad living quarters.

"Hey everybody!" Veksai said excitedly. Fastocheni and M'kr'gr immediately started comparing summer notes, the two former roommates suddenly in their own little world. "Igor, how's the lady friend?"

"What's with this?" Baxter interrupted, pointing at the doors leading to the Brute Squad hallway. The doors had been sealed, 'Do Not Enter' tape criss-crossing the pitted panels.

"SNAP," Fast said, "Some of the lower-classmen are already here. Since we're the only Sector in the building now, they've got the lowers using the back entrance,"

"The lowers," Veksai shook his head, "That just sounds weird, coming from you. WE used to be the lowers!"

"And now we're the juniors!" Baxter said excitedly, "No more bulls**t for us! Time to paaaarty!"

The group moved down the hall to the Antares Sector lounge. Some of the furniture had apparently gone missing over the summer, probably due to the faulty security system, but there were still enough seats to go around. They were soon joined by Bahred, Kumari and Malespere, who of course had been all but inseparable since their return a day earlier.

"So, like, how was your guys' courses?" Malespere asked.

"Yes!" Kumari seconded a mock-serious expression on her face, "Details!"

"Oh man, we had the best staff!" Baxter said, a wide grin on his face.

"Really?" Veksai asked, surprised, "My staff hated us!"

"Because you're ugly?" Baxter giggled.

"Noo, because we're cadets," Veksai said, "It was like…like they didn't trust that we actually knew how to do anything. Like, this one Lt. Commander I had to work under…

Veksai's story:

It was near the end of my basic training. Our training group had been loaded up in a runabout and flown to a nearby planet for away-team exercises. We each had to take a turn commanding the team through a basic mission. With the number of cadets training at the Annex, some of the regular Waystation officers were helping out. My squad had been assigned to Lt. Cmdr. Russell, Waystation's security chief. Our sister squad was working with Lt. Cmdr. Porter, Waytation's Chief of Operations.

I had a pretty easy task: A shuttle had 'crashed' on the planet, and I had to lead a team to find the wreck and any survivors. We found the wreck using a tricorder, and when we found it, I ordered my team to setup a perimeter and start first aid. Things were gong well.

When we got back to our landing site, Lr. Cmdr. Russell decided that things had been too easy.

"Empty your pockets," he ordered me.

What was this all about? OK, fine. There's a stylus, a tricorder, a data padd.

Oops. We weren't supposed to be carrying data padds in the field…

"WHAT'S THIS?" Russell demanded.

"Um, I forgot to drop that off after our practice-" I started.

"CHEATER!" Russell interrupted, having activated the padd, "You had mission notes with you the whole time!"

What was he talking about? Mission notes?

"Do you know how serious this is?" Russell demanded, "I could have you kicked out of the fleet for this!"

"But-"

"Shut up, cadet!" Russell snapped, "I have to talk to the other officers about this. You sit here and start thinking about how to explain yourself!"

And he stalked away.

For the next hour, I was either answering the Lt. Cmdr.'s questions or pacing in front of the rest of the squad, sweating. I knew damn well I hadn't cheated, but if Russell thought I had…

Finally, after making me explain step by step why I'd handled the mission the way I had, Russell gave a small grin.

"It sounds like you knew what you were doing after all. Good planning,"

And he left.

I found out the truth later, during my 'on the job training' aboard Waystation. I was cleaning up one of the science labs when Lt. Cmdr. Porter passed by.

"Cadet," he said.

"Sir," I replied formally, coming to attention.

Porter looked around, the lowered his voice.

"You do realize that Russell never thought you were cheating, right?" Porter asked,. He dropped a padd, the same padd Russell had confiscated from me, on the workbench, "Sean, well, he just wanted to mess with you a little bit. See how you'd react. Y'know, how you'd handle yourself under a bit of pressure."

I looked at the padd. There was nothing on it but a few pictures of myself and some of my Academy buddies. There was no way that could be considered cheating!

"I see," I said carefully, "Thank you sir,"

"And drop the formalities," Porter said, turning to leave, "This isn't the Academy."

I waited for Porter to leave the room.

"That son of a bitch," I fumed, "THAT BASTARD!"

"Oh my God!" Malespere exclaimed.

"I know!" Veksai almost shouted, "It sucked!"

"No! Man!" Malespere shook his head, "That is, like, the best test ever!"

Veksai blinked.

"What?"

"Man, getting into that kind of situation, finding out how you'd handle yourself under pressure," Malespere rubbed his hands together, almost gleefully, "Everybody should have a test like that!"

"Maybe if it'd happened to you, you'd change your mind," Veksai grumbled.

"Mmmm! But it did! Or something sorta like it…"

Malespere's story:

I was in charge.

About time too. I mean, I'd been in the Starfleet Scouts and the Junior Redshirts for years, and I'm like the only guy here that's fully EVA qualified. This whole training course was a snap! Uh, pardon the expression.

"Malespere!" It was Petty Officer Patela, one of my staff, "Get over here!"

"Yes PO!" I snapped, jogging smartly over and standing at attention.

"We're beaming back up to the Richelieu in two hours," Patela said, "I want those cargo containers packed and sorted and over by that tree. Everything goes! I want all weapons packed in this container here…"

I made careful notes on my field padd. This would be a easy.

"Brock!" I ordered, "Start getting the field shelters packed up! Johnson, I want all the individual field packs stored in the containers…"

I quickly relayed my orders. Within minutes, the forty-something members of our away team exercise were hard at work.

"MALESPERE!" This time it was Chief Swert, "What the f**k are you doing?"

I ran over and came to attention.

"Packing, chief!"

"Why? We're doing another target exercise before the Richeleau beams us up! Now, I want everybody formed up here with phaser rifles and training power packs in 5 minutes!"

Huh. That was odd. OK.

I quickly started snapped orders. Cadets dropped their equipment, then bolted for the form-up point.

No sooner had they arrived, then another voice shouted.

"MALESPERE! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

"Yes, Master Crewman!" I ran over to Master Crewman Huksra and yet again came to attention.

"What the xixnix is everybody doing standing around?" Huksra demanded, spittle flying into my face as he screamed, "The Richelieu is beaming us up in 15 minutes, and the cargo transporters are down! Empty out those containers! NOW!"

Don't these people ever talk to each other?

"They're f**king with us," Cadet Muxra, my second-in-command, muttered to me as everybody scrambled around, yet again, in an effort to obey the staff's orders.

"No s**t," I muttered back.

"MALESPERE! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! NOW!"

I ran over, nearly tripping on an exposed root this time, and came to attention yet again.

"Yes, PO Patela?" I replied.

"What the f**k is going on? I told you to pack these cargo containers!"

"Master Crewman Huksra said-"

"I don't care what Huksra said!" Patela cut me off, "I want these containers packed, stacked and ready to go! YESTERDAY!"

"But-"

"GO!"

I turned and gave the orders to my Team Seniors, who quickly got the rest of the away team moving. No sooner had I finished when…

"MALESPERE!"

Chief Swert. Crap.

"Chief!" I came to attention.

"I told you we had a targeting exercise!"

"PO Patela said-"

"I don't care! Get those weapons out and get formed up at the targeting range!"

"MALESPERE!"

Three voices together. And this time I didn't have time to relay the orders.

"I said PACK the containers!" Patela shouted.

"I said pack INDIVIDUAL gear!" Huksra snapped.

"Phaser exercise! NOW!"

OK, sometimes being in charge really sucked ass.

"At that point," Malespere finished, "I knew they were just messing around with me,"

"Fun," Veksai grumbled, "At least you found out right away.

"Maybe," Igor suggested, "It's like, some sort of super-secret test that they make lots of people do!"

"Or maybe," Veksai muttered darkly, "All the staff in the fleet just hate us all,"

"I don't think so," Fastocheni said, an intent yet thoughtful look on his face, "Our staff didn't pull anything like that on us, right?"

"No," Igor shook his head, "But we had a pretty cool staff though,"

"Unless we did something to piss them off…" Fast said.

Fastocheni's story:

It was Tuesday morning of week 6. I was doing my course from the USS Richelieu, and we'd beamed down to this planet the night before for training. We were woken up by the sound of portable air raid sirens…three of us had to have new ears cloned after that. Anyway, we were rushing to get out of the shelter and formed up for a weapons inspection and fitness workout. You guys know what it was like…the tension among us was going up, and our patience was going down. It was a warm and sunny day; even the petty officers running our course were in a good mood.

Looking back, I guess that should have been our first warning. Anytime staff is in a good mood it leaves you wondering what they've got planned for you next.

PO Johans was walking up the front rank, checking each member's phaser rifle as he went. Of course, he always had some 'constructive criticisms' to pass on.

"The focusing crystal is dirty," he barked, "20 pushups,"

"There are smudges all over the handgrip? What did you do, wipe your ass with it? 30 pushups!"

"Dead power cell. Congratulations, you've turned 300 years of advanced particle weapons research into a club. A fit weapon for any cave-man! 20 pushups."

Suddenly, he stopped. He was examining someone's rifle very carefully, but I couldn't see who it belonged to.

"Who can tell me," he snapped, "How many field-serviceable components are in the Mark VII phaser rifle?"

Hands went up throughout the squad.

"8, Petty Officer Johans!"

"And how many does this one have in it?" he snarled, thrusting it back at its owner. The cadet, paling, quickly counted.

"S-seven, PO," he stammered.

The PO glared at us all.

"Sort yourselves out!"

He stalked away.

It was instant chaos.

"I'm missing my power coupling!" the cadet wailed.

"WHAT? THAT THING'S TINY!" somebody else exclaimed.

"Could have been swept out the door-"

"-kicked into a corner-"

"-we were in such a hurry!"

"-must have tossed it out with the trash-"

"OMIGOD! THE SHIT'S HIT THE FAN!"

"What? What fan?"

PO Johans stalked back towards us.

"2 Section," he snapped, "Find that coupling! The rest of you, kit up!"

It wasn't too long before 2 section was on their knees, picking through the ground, skimming through the trash and turning the shelter inside out, hunting for a needle in a hay stack. All the while, the rest of the squad was led in a round of push-ups, packs of supplies and equipment strapped to their backs. Push-ups turned into leopard crawls, straining cadets crawling through the gravel-filled grass (myself included). Crawling turned into a never-ending round of 'six inches'; flat on our backs, legs straight and boot heels hovering six inches above the ground until the bloody power coupling could be found. WELL WE FOUND THAT F**KING COUPLING!

"'Bout f**king time," PO Johans snapped, looking at his wrist chrono, "And guess what? We've got about 15 minutes now to get to the phaser range, thanks to you lot. Time for a light 4 KM run!"

Of course, we were still loaded down with equipment. 'Light' run, right!

"By the way," the PO said, "I'd like you to meet your new team members. They're a little slow, so you're going to have to help them over to the range,"

He gestured at a pair of very full (and very heavy) water containers.

"Meet 'Mr. Jerry' and 'Mr. Can'," PO Johans smirked.

"So, what you're saying is that your staff hated you," Baxter giggled.

"No," Fastocheni said, "I'm saying that when we screwed up, they came down hard on us. Anyway, that is one morning I will never, ever forget,"

"I've got an afternoon I wouldn't mind forgetting," Igor said.

Igor's story:

I was posted to Waystation's Academy Annex for my summer training, same as Veksai. I was on one of the other summer courses, so I was working with different officers. We'd all heard that Waystation used to have a Federation Marine unit that vanished into some kind of space hole, and I really think these guys had spent too much time with the marines.

We'd been doing OK for the first couple of weeks, then things went to s**t. We were doing our Away Team exercise, and two people managed to get infected by these bizarre squirrel-things that didn`t even come from the planet we were on. Anyway, they had to be quarantined and treated. We didn't think it was a big deal, until the exercise was ending.

"Weapons check," Ensign Jacobs ordered, "Phaser rifles, hand phasers, photon mortars and ALL training power packs and rounds must be turned in! I need all the actuator crystals separated and accounted for!"

"I didn't know you could count," Ensign Shust muttered next to him.

"Hey, I can count well enough that Lt. Cmd Russel put me in charge of an entire cadet course!" Jacob

"He put US in charge," Shust muttered back, "Along with Lt. Waits and Ensign/Yeoman Jones,"

Anyway, I wasn't supposed to hear that part of the conversation. All I know was, we were turning in all our weapons and stuff when all hell broke loose.

"We're short a hand phaser and the actuator crystal from a photon mortar," Jacobs said, once everything had been turned in.

The three staff officers exchanged a very worried glance.

"Do you people realize what this means?" Shust snapped angrily, "We have weapons…weapons capable of KILLING SOMEBODY unaccounted for!"

Before I knew what was happening, we were running at full speed down to the transporter room. Within minutes, we were all back down on the planet surface, combing the training area for the missing ordinance.

It was nearly half an hour until Zandar, one of the other cadets on my course, figured it out. When the two infected guys had gone into quarantine, nobody had thought to get their weapons. And they were sitting in intensive Disney therapy until the mind-control squirrels fell off from cuteness overdose.3

I'm so glad I wasn't the Course Senior that day. We could hear Ensign Jones screaming at the poor guy from across the field. She seemed like such a nice girl the first time we met her. It was hard to believe she could be so angry.

"It's time to go swimming!" Jones snapped, after forming everybody up, "You've probably noticed that there's no swimming pool nearby. Well guess what…it's right here."

She pointed at a plain-looking patch of ground.

"Jacobs! Demonstrate!"

Jacobs dove to the ground and started pulling himself across the field, using only his arms. Our jaws dropped.

"Everybody! Five laps! Now!"

So we all had to lie flat on our bellies, then pull ourselves across the dirt. My arms were just burning, even by the fourth lap. Then she had us doing push-ups. Then squats. Then a run. She was unstoppable!

It went on for over two hours. I mean, when we finally beamed up to the ship that would take us back to Waystation, we all felt like we'd been beaten half to death.

The whole time, she never stopped smiling.

"I remember that," Veksai said, nodding, "you guys came back to the station looking awful,"

"I thought it was never going to end," Igor said, "It was like, we were just going to keep going until we passed out and died."

"We all got jerked around a bit," Kumari said, "But that's just brutal,"

"Yeah,"

"How about you, M'kr'gr?" Gallium asked.

"My staff did not bother me," the large reptile said quietly, "And I did not eat them,"

"Um, fair enough,"

"So, another year at the Academy, then we're back out on training again, huh?" Baxter said.

Everybody exchanged glances. Few looked particularly happy at the idea of returning to the USS Richelieu.

"It wasn't that bad," Fast said, "We had some good leave time. And anybody posted to the Richelieu actually got to take leave on some nice planets, right?"

"Yeah, and those of us on Waystation or at one of the other Academy Annexes got to just…sit there," Veksai said.

"Aww, those places are almost cities themselves," Baxter said, "Must have been easy to find a little s'vazzztz-ing."

"What?" Kumari looked confused.

"It's Andorian," Veksai said automatically. (He was taking Andorian as his second language credit.)

"What does it mean?" Kumari asked.

"It means ya get a piece of the action!" Baxter gave a wide grin, then mimed slapping somebody (presumably somebody female) on the buttocks.

"You are such a pervert," Kumari said.

"That's why we love him," Quarterman said fondly.

Veksai rolled his eyes.

"Looks like it's time to get going with year two," Fastocheni said, ginning.

End

Next: With the arrival of the new lower-classmen, Year Two is officially underway. Veksai, Igor, Gallium and the rest of already survived SNAP themselves, but what will it be like seeing SNAP from the other side? Find out in Crash Course 2.2 – New Arrivals, Round Two.

1 Alan Decker first floated the concept of the Starfleet Academy Annexes in the early Waystation stories. I'm sort of using them here to parallel the Canadian/American training systems, where officer-cadets do their academic training at RMC/Westpoint and then go off to various training bases/facilities for summer training.

2 Waystation is shaped like a giant barbell. The upper saucer contains docking facilities, commercial spaces and command & control facilities. The lower saucer is dedicated to living quarters and other facilities, such as the Academy Annex.

3 See Star Traks: Waystation – 'Send the Marines'


	8. Year 2 - New Arrivals - Round Two!

Copyright 2009

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

2.2 – "New Arrivals – Round Two"

Gell Gallium practically flew out of bed, slapping the cut-off button on his alarm. Crap, that thing must have been beeping for over a minute! His roommate was going to be…wait. He didn't have a roommate anymore! He could let his alarm ring as long as he wanted and nobody would give a damn! YES!

Gallium, along with the rest of the Antares Sector junior-classmen, had been assigned his very own room in Fort Pike this semester. They still had half a week before classes (and SNAP) were scheduled to start, and Gallium was enjoying the chance to relax, settle back in and get himself ready for another Academy semester.

Pulling on a snug-fitting spandex shirt and a pair of biker's shorts, Gallium threw water on his blue-skinned face and stepped into the corridor, ready to grab his bike and head out for a nice morning workout. As he headed towards the storage room, he passed Veksai. The older cadet was shuffling towards the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Seeing Gallium standing there, blue-skinned and spandex-clad he shook his head.

"My sister was right," he muttered, resuming his trek towards the facilities, "The Smurfs really are gay,"

"I have a girlfriend!" Gallium said to Veksai's back. Veksai just gave a half-wave, belched, and disappeared into the washroom. Shrugging, Gallium went to get his bike.

Pedalling towards the Academy landing fields, Gallium was struck again by just how great it was to be back. The Academy grounds were lush and green, reflecting gardener Boothby's1 hard work. The trees, the grassy sports fields and the carefully landscaped gardens in front of many of the gleaming buildings…even the buildings themselves, combined to give the Academy an almost park-like setting. At the moment, the campus felt nearly deserted; as only Gallium and a few others were up and about.

As he pedaled up the carefully manicured lanes, taking a hard turn in front of the Spock Library followed by a sprint towards the Athletics Center, Galliam couldn't help but feel like he knew the place like the back of his hand. Over there was the brand-new Fort Hillier. Antares sector would have been living in that building this year, except that the planned renovations on Fort Pike had been pushed back again. As he passed the stone-and-glass building, he turned onto a street that would lead him towards the waterfront.

This was HIS campus now, Gallium realized. He'd lived here for a year, and while it didn't feel like home, there was still a sense of ownership. And it really was good to be back.

When Gallium returned to Fort Pike he found Veksai lounging in the corridor with Igor, Fastocheni and mid-classman Junethec. Junethec was SNAP staff this semester, along with mid-classmen T'Henki, Larashentali and Meltan. Senior-classmen Graveti, a burly human of Irish descent, was the new Brute Squad Leader. The five of them had returned to the Academy a week early to prepare for the arrival of the new Brute Squad cadets.

"We found a new sound system for morning reveille," Junethec was saying.

"Which explains why we're all standing around a pair of very, very big speakers. Veksai said dryly. Speakers? Oh, yup! There they were! Gallium had seen sound systems like that before…usually in dance clubs.

"Check this out," Junethec hit the activation button.

'ooooooooooooom Do'!  
paaaaarHaaaaaaaa' ech maaS!  
SoooooooooooooH choooooooH laaaaaaH!

The junior-classmen winced, covering their ears as the traditional Academy wake-up song burst out, louder than ever before.

"Ohhh, that brings back memories," Fast groaned.

"At least somebody else has to deal with this crap this year!" Veksai shouted.

"If it's this loud, the whole campus is going to have to deal with it!" Igor yelled.

"Dude! These things are only at, like 10 percent!" Junethec laughed. He reached for the dial.

"NOOOO!" Igor cried, reaching for Junethec's hand.

Too late.

The music reached even higher levels. Doors were opening, confused cadets were shouting into the halls, hands over their ears, antennae or other auditory organs. Bits of plaster started falling from the ceiling and a large crack formed above Junethec's door. His tail swishing in agitation, the Squethian cadet quickly hit the cut-off button.

"Gonna have to watch the levels on this, huh?" he asked.

Up and down the hall there were angry grumbles and the closing of doors.

"It's so good to be home," Veksai grumbled, one greenish finger still plugged into one ear.

"Home? You're kidding, right?" Igor said.

"Why would I be kidding?" Veksai asked, removing the finger and wiping his hands on his pants, "We live here, don't we?"

"Man, my home isn't even on this planet!" Junethec said.

"And yet," Fast pointed out, "Your English sounds exactly like a human teenager's,"

"Hey man, I've been practicing! Dude! " the alien pointed out indignantly.

"Anyway, I've lived here for a year now," Veksai continued, "I mean, I've lived in apartments for less time than that. It's been years since I lived at my parents place. Wherever I live, it's home."

"That's sort of depressing," Gallium said.

"What?" Veksai looked surprised, "Why?"

"Well, if you think about it, it sort of says that you're just not getting attached to the places you live anymore." Gallium said.

"I think you should stop playing psycho-analyst." Veksai said.

"I think you're nuts," Igor told him flatly.

"Maybe one day, when you're older, you'll understand," Veksai said, patting Igor's shoulder and trying to sound as condescending as humanly possible.

"I hate it when he does that," Igor grumbled as Veksai walked away.

"He knows," Fast smiled.

Gallium returned to his room, peeled off his spandex and grabbed a towel, intent on a cool shower. He walked quickly down the second-story corridor of Fort Pike towards the washrooms, trying to ignore the horrible smell. The washrooms had to be the most run-down part of the building. No matter how hard they tried to clean them, there were always water stains, cracked tiles and problems with the plumbing. Case in point, one of the showers was on the fritz, spraying water in all directions, leaving the floor nice and slick. As Gallium moved towards an empty stall, he heard a voice. A wheezing, airy voice, like nothing he'd ever heard before.

"Gooood….morning…."

Kumari lay on her bed, trying to decide whether she should get up and do something, or just enjoy the opportunity to take a nice, peaceful nap.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh…THUMP!"

"What the…" Kumari jumped. Somebody was screaming! Bolting from her room, she ran towards the source of the sound. She rushed through a door, not bothering to read the sign.

Bahred was in his room, packing away some of his gear. Was that a scream?

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

Another scream, this one high-pitched, female.

"Kumari!" Bahred shouted, bolting from his room and into the corridor.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Male.

"AHHHHHHHH! Female.

"STOP….SHOUTING!" ?

Bahred skidded into the men's washroom.

"HOLY CRAP!"

A few seconds earlier...

"AHHHH!" Gallium screamed. He spun towards the source of the sound, slipping on the slick flood and falling on his blue ass with a loud THUD. Filling the men's bathtub was a monstrous pile of moist, mossy green fluff.

Before he could say anything, Kumari burst into the room. Confronted with the sight of the mould-pile to her left and Gallium's naked body sprawled out to her right, she did the only sensible thing.

"AHHHHHH!" she screamed.

"AHHHHHH!" Gallium rushed to cover his genitals.

"STOP…SHOUTING!" the mould-pile wheezed.

Bahred skidded into the room.

"HOLY CRAP!" he said, "Didn't anybody tell you this is the MEN'S room?" he said to Kumari.

"I heard shouting!" Kumari snapped.

"Um, could somebody help me up?" Gallium gasped, "And by the way…THERE'S A MONSTER IN THE BATHTUB!"

"That's Roger," Bahred said, "He lives in the bathtub now. Didn't you get the memo?"

"Memo? How can you have a memo on a frickin' MOULD MONSTER!"

"I…am…Roger…" the mould pile breathed.

"Men," Kumari muttered, turning back to the door, "Never mind me, I just raced to help you out! Feel free to just ignore me, or whatever."

"They brought in a decontamination team over the summer," Bahred said, "But the mould…um, Roger, had been growing for weeks after we left. They figure there was probably some kind of alien fungus in there…maybe Andorian athlete's foot or something. Anyway, if he's sentient, we can't exterminate him. So he's living here now,"

"Um…right," Gallium said slowly. Hmm. Now that he knew the story, he was much less creeped out than he would have expected. Apparently, a year at the Academy living with dozens of alien species was having an effect on him. Still…

"How am I supposed to take a shower if he's just sitting there…watching me?" Gallium asked.

"Dude, he doesn't have any eyes!"

"Oh."

As their second year kicked into gear, the Antares Sector juniors quickly noticed (well, except for Baxter, who isn't bright enough to notice a sunny day). Um, OK. We got distracted there. Anyway, the juniors quickly noticed compared to first year, the official start of second year was a breeze. Class schedules were posted, textbook padds were signed out, briefings were held and duties assigned.

It was during a briefing with the Director of Cadets (the DirCat) that things were summed up:

"It's great to be a junior-classman," the DirCat had said. Well, he said a LOT of stuff, but Gallium's brain condensed things to a few simple points. "Junior-classmen have a great ride. You're not lowers anymore, so you don't have the entire Academy keeping you under a microscope. You're also not mid or senior classmen, so you don't really have any responsibilities either. Stay out of trouble, focus on your studies, and your junior year will be your easiest year here."

As the entire junior class, the Class of 62000, shuffled out of the auditorium Gallium realized that what the DirCat had said explained a lot. They'd hardly seen Buhras, Junethec, Nowal or the other Sector pipmen2. The pipmen, by the way, were the Academy cadets who had earned leadership positions, either in their own Sectors or for the Academy as a whole. The Team Leaders, Sector Leaders, Sector Administrators and the Cadet Executive Officer were all pipmen. The name came from the small, round silver pips these cadets wore to identify them as such. Of course, these pips were worthless compared to the gold rank pips worn by commissioned officers, but as far as the cadets of the Academy were concerned, anybody wearing the silver pips was to be obeyed.

But Gallium had seen very few pipmen so far, aside from his own Team Leader, senior-classman Z'man. Everybody else, he now understood, was far too busy getting SNAP up and running for the new class of lower-classmen. It was so simple! Everybody was so fixated on SNAP and the lowers, they simply didn't have time to worry about the juniors!

This year was going to be great!

Later that evening, Gallium found several Antares cadets crowded around the sealed doors leading to the Brute Squad hallway. Veksai and Fast were standing a few steps away, while Quartermain and Bizkit had their ears pressed against the door panels. Igor and M'kr'gr stood nearby.

"Can you hear anything?" M'Kr'gr demanded.

"Graveti just called them to attention," Bizkit said, "He's saying something to them…but I can't really make it out. Oh! He's making them do push-ups now!"

The 'them' in question, was Brute Squad. The new Brute Squad. Brute Squad 59000, one might say, if the current junior-classmen were considered Brute Squad 58000. 20 brand new cadets, so fresh off the streets that they had just today put on their uniforms for the first time.

"I remember being in their position," Veksai said wistfully, "I hope it never happens again."

"Yeah," Quarterman drawled, "Their lives are going to royally suck for the next month,"

"5 weeks," Gallium corrected, "They extended SNAP this year,"

Trust Gallium to be up on the latest Academy scuttlebutt.

"Ohh…that really sucks for them," Fast said.

"You think that sucks?" Bizkit asked, ear still pressed to the door, "Now Junethec is giving them their room standards!"

"Did we get our new room standards3, by the way?" Veksai asked.

"We did," Gallium nodded. He started counting on one hand. "There's a chart for hanging the uniforms in your closet. Beds have to be made. Keep that little shelf next to the sink empty, and keep everything clear. Oh, and your boots and shoes have to be arranged in order on the bottom closet shelf."

The other juniors stared at him expectantly.

"And?" Igor demanded.

"No, that's it." Gallium shrugged.

"What do you mean that is it?" M'kr'gr demanded, "Do we not have to arrange the drawers? Set out specific equipment items? Ensure that the window shade is exactly 45 centimetres from the window ledge?"

"Nope. We're juniors now, and we're in the shittiest building on campus. They're cutting us some slack."

"Awesome," Quarterman giggled.

"They're sure not cutting the lowers any slack," Bizkit said, "They've got the same standard we had last year! Oh, they're showing them how to iron now! 50 credits says somebody burns themself!"

"Sucks to be them," Veksai shrugged.

"I wonder when we get to feed them?" Bizkit wondered, "I'm gonna take them so much food!"

"Second week," Veksai said, "Graveti wants to give them some time to get miserable first. Says they'll appreciate it more that way,"

"Ohh, I wonder when we'll get to see them?" Quarterman wondered, "I bet there're a few hotties!"

"Hands off the lowers," Veksai winced, "that's just so…low-class. No pun intended. "

"Hey, just because you're like 10 years older than most of them…"

"Not to mention that I have standards," Veksai added dryly.

As it turned out, they saw the new lower-classmen the next morning.

Veksai, Malespere, Bahred, Kumari and M'kr'gr were seated in the lower/junior dining hall, enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Malespere had just been talking about Red Squad, no big surprise.

"I'm not joining Red Squad again this year," Malespere said. OK, that part was surprising.

"Really?" Kumari asked, "Why not?"

"Takes up too much time," Malespere admitted, "I gotta focus on my studies, y'know? Plus, M'Kr'gr and I have this idea for a band…"

"And the fact that Red Squad lost the Solarious competition for the first time in five years last year has nothing to do with it?" Veksai pointed out, rather snidely.

"Hey, f**k you, man!" Malespere snapped, "If the Romulans hadn't sent two teams in-"

Before Malespere's rant could start, the front doors to the dining hall slammed open and a loud voice rang in.

"ARMS AT YOUR SIDES! EYES FRONT! DO NOT LOOK AROUND!"

"OMIGOD!" Kumari giggled, "Here they come!"

"Lower classmen!" Veksai grinned.

It wasn't Brute Squad. Judging from the Andorian mid-classman doing the screaming, it was Decker Squad, part of Rigel Sector.

"Oh my God," Bahred gasped, turning in his seat to look.

They marched into the dining hall in a single file line. 20 cadets of various races and genders. Humans made up the majority, as usual, but there were Andorians, Rigellians, Tellarites, Vulcans, Bajorans and others. Their arms, tentacles or etc were held rigidly against their bodies, and their eyes were pointed straight ahead. Their jumpsuit-style Academy uniforms were fresh from the replicator and lacked the distinctive gold-and-silver comm-badge that would one day mark them as full members of the Academy.

What had startled Bahred however were the expressions on their faces. Grim faced, with heads freshly shaven, they looked incredibly young, incredibly unhappy and, in a few cases, incredibly scared. Even as Decker Squad finished filing into the dining hall and started filling their trays, M'Kr'gr spotted Terran Sector's Archer Squad filing in after them.

"Look at them," Bahred said softly, "They look so sad. It's like their entire world has just been ripped apart,"

"It has been," Kumari said, shuddering slightly as she remembered their first few days of SNAP.

"That was us a year ago," Veksai mused, "Wow. I knew we were miserable…I just didn't realize just how much it showed,"

They watched in silence as more lower-classmen filed in. Soon, mid-classmen T'Henki marched stiffly into the dining hall.

"This way, Brute Squad," she snapped. The emotionless Vulcan voice wasn't well suited for yelling, however Vulcans were masters of condescension, and T`Henki was taking full advantage of that fact. "Eyes forward. Do not speak."

"There they are!" Kumari perked up.

The former Brute Squad cadets were riveted to the door as the current Brute Squad marched in. These were the cadets that, in a matter of weeks, would be the newest members of Antares Sector. They had the same youthful features, the same scared expressions as the rest of the lowerclassmen. Well, there was a Klingon cadet who didn't look all that scared, and a Vulcan cadet who looked more annoyed with what he probably considered to be the foolish traditions of an overly emotional race, but they were by far the exceptions. There was an incredibly tall Lemnorian girl, a Bolian boy who looked taller and broader then Gallium and even a greenish boy with black hair who might have shared the same mixed ancestry as Veksai. None of the lower classmen wore nametags, and if weren't for T'Henki, now joined by Meltran, there would have been no way to distinguish this new Brute Squad from the rest of the lower-classmen. As they watched, it was hard to explain, or even for some of the junior-classmen to fully realize, but there was already a sense of connection to the nameless cadets walking past them. These cadets, even now, were enduring the same trials and challenges that they themselves had undergone a year ago. Soon, sooner than the lowers even realized, they'd be watching them take on the Survival Challenge.

During his own SNAP, Veksai had never understood why the junior classmen would go to the bother of sneaking into the Brute Squad hallway late at night and offering food, advice and even reassurance to a pack of pathetic lower-classmen. Yet now, as he watched this new group come in, he felt a nagging sense of protectiveness.

"I'm SO glad I'm, like, not in their shoes right now," Kumari said.

"Ohh yeah," the rest agreed.

As SNAP kicked into gear, the change in atmosphere at the Academy didn't come on gradually. It hit like a tidal wave.

Bahred and Gallium were biking around the campus early one morning, intent on getting in a decent workout before starting their day. No sooner had they left the vicinity of Fort Pike then they found themselves surrounded.

To their left, on one of the sports fields, a group of SNAP cadets was doing circuit training. Alternating between push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups and dips, the new lower-classmen were already sweating and wheezing, while the SNAP staff working with them was just beginning to breathe hard. To their right, the Veltran Sector lowers were in the midst of a cool-down, their red and grey athletic gear drenched in sweat. As Gallium and Bahred watched, one of the Team Leaders started shouting:

"You've got 12 minutes to be showered, changed and ready for inspection!" she screamed. The cadets started moving towards their building, but it was a sluggish, listless movement. You can bet that if Gallium and Bahred noticed it, so did the staff, leading to a fresh round of yelling and a firm promise that if they didn't shape up, there'd be hell to pay.

Gallium found himself wincing at the sounds of the orders, subtly-veiled threats and not-so-subtly veiled insults. The scene was identical to the one he'd experienced during his first few weeks at the Academy, yet here he was, looking on from the outside in.

"Man, this place has gone nuts!" Bahred said as he and Gallium stopped at an intersection to let a squad of lowers run by.

"I know! It's awesome!"

The remainder of the week passed without major incident. T'Henki, Meltran and Junethec continued running the new Brute Squad through the ringer, though the majority of the SNAP-related activities took place in the Brute Squad hallway, out of sight of the rest of the Sector. The new SNAP staff couldn't step foot in the rest of the building without somebody asking 'How are the new lowers?', 'Are the lowers in decent shape?' or 'How many piles of s**t did they add to the Sector this year?'

Fastocheni commented on as much as he sat in the dining hall. Veksai, Igor and Gallium had arrived shortly after him, finding him seated with several cadets from the fencing team.

"You know," somebody had said, "When they told us last year that the entire Academy was watching us, I thought they were just trying to scare us,"

"Oh, they were completely correct," Fast said seriously, "I haven't heard anybody talk about anything else all week. And we're already halfway through the second week!"

"I don't remember the time passing so quickly last year, do you?" Veksai asked, scratching his head, "I don't know why. I've had such a relaxed week it's not even funny,"

"What, your classes are that easy?" Igor asked, "Cuz mine aren't!"

"Nooo," Veksai said slowly, "It's just that…there really isn't much homework yet. Intramurals haven't started. I've actually had time to head into town and relax after classes a couple times this week,"

"Oh hey, congrats on getting pips, by the way," Gallium said.

"Thanks," Veksai grinned. He was sporting a small pair of silver pips on his uniform collar, "They decided to make me Sector Technology Officer. Can't imagine why."

"I thought junior-classmen weren't allowed to get pips," one of the other cadets said.

"Just for STO, they are," Veksai shrugged.

Veksai's head was suddenly knocked forward, spilling his drink as something hit him from behind.

"Oops, sorry man," Dylan Baxter said, trying to manoeuvre his stocky self around the chairs without causing further damage, "Hey, are you still up for feeding the lowers tonight?"

"For sure," Veksai said, hunting for a napkin, "And I'm fine, thanks."

"Cool. I've got a hover-car here this year, so we'll get them something good. None of the crap from the replicator."

"K, whatever,"

Senior-classmen Graveti sat back in his room, enjoying the momentary peace and quiet. As the Squad Leader for SNAP, he'd been back at the Academy a week before most of the cadets, working with his new SNAP team to get everything prepared for the new lower-classmen. And once they'd arrived, his entire days had become blurs of workouts, inspections, classes, sports and coming up with creative ways to keep the lower classmen hard at work.

People thought SNAP was tough. Ha! They should try being SNAP staff!

BE-DEEEP!

At the sound of his door chime, Graveti straightened up behind his desk.

"Come in!"

The panels swished open, revealing junior-classmen Malespere and M'kr'gr. Graveti barely glanced at Malespere. While he'd shown himself to be a skilled and driven cadet last year, it was M'kr'gr that always managed to draw the attention. With his green scales, blood-red eyes, sharp fangs and sheathed claws, M'kr'gr somehow managed to make everybody in the room turn and go 'Oh shit!'. Except, of course, for the people that knew him. Those people were simply surprised that he'd left the gym for any period of time.

"Hey guys," Graveti said casually, "I've got a job for you two."

"A job?" Malespere perked up, "Something to do with the lower-classmen?"

"Yup. You remember Hell Night last year?"

"You refer," M'kr'gr growled, "To the night where the junior classmen stormed into our hallway, did an inspection, yelled a great deal and then allowed us to watch a movie?"

"That's it, yeah. I want you two to put together this year's Hell Night. You've got just over two weeks,"

"We're on it," Malespere said immediately, "And dude, we can totally come up with something better than an inspection!"

"Just remember," Graveti warned, "They've got to work for their movie, and they've still got to follow the SNAP rules. No leaving campus, no civilian cloths, all that sort of thing.

"No problem," Malespere nodded. He grabbed M'kr'gr by the arm, "C'mon, big guy,"

Later that night, close to midnight, Veksai and Gallium found themselves in Baxter's hover-car, clinging to the seat harnesses for dear life.

"Hey, I'm driving here!" Baxter shouted, slamming one hand down on the horn while swerving around a completely stationary street-light/airlane marker, "Get out of my way!"

"It can't-" Gallium started, but Veksai slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Don't distract him," Veksai said between clenched teeth.

"WHOOO-HOOOO!" Baxter cried out, pulling the car into a barrel-roll as he pulled off the main traffic route. Straightening out of the roll, the slammed the car to a halt and brought it down for a rough landing in the parking lot of a McBaughb's restaurant.

Veksai and Gallium both spilled out the side door, Veksai turning an emerald shade of green while Gallium stumbled to the ground.

"Remind me why we came with Baxter?" Veksai groaned.

"I thought you knew," Gallium gasped.

"Hurry up and get the food, guys!" Baxter called from the pilot seat, "And make sure they leave the chunks in the water this time!"

"I thought we were supposed to be making the lower-classmen feel a bit better, not poisoning them with Andorian food," Gallium said.

"Apparently, lots of kids nowadays like Andorian," Veksai shrugged.

They quickly ordered 20 McSpleen Burgers to go, then climbed nervously into Baxter's hover-car.

"Here we go!' Baxter giggled, hitting the throttle and sending the car spiralling into the air.

15 minutes and 6 traffic violations later, they were back at the Academy. Returning to Fort Pike, Veksai, Baxter and Gallium snuck carefully into the Brute Squad hallway. The lights were out, except for the blinking warning lights around the hole in the floor. (The hole was halfway repaired, at least.) They passed the staff quarters, then founds themselves facing a row of doors with two information sheets on them. Their old quarters, actually. Each had a photo of the cadet in residence, the cadet's name, class schedule and species.

Veksai frowned.

"Do either of you guys smell…pizza?" he whispered.

Just then, one of the doors opened, revealing Bizkit and Quarterman, each holding a nearly empty pizza box.

"Oh good. We're running out of pizza," Bizkit whispered, "Get those last two rooms over there, would you/"

Frowning, Veksai moved off to comply. As he did, he bumped into something wet and slimy.

"I…brought…chocolate," Kodene said softly. The towing Velvattian was gripping thick slabs of chocolate in several of its tentacles.

"You big old softy, you," Veksai said, looking down to see how much slime was on his shirt. Of course, the corridor being pitch black, he couldn't see anything.

He snuck into the room and gently shook the two lower-classmen sleeping there. Neither of them really said anything, just grunting in confusion, then eating the offered burgers. No sooner had they swallowed the last bite, than they passed out again.

"Well," Veksai muttered, "That was…anticlimatic,"

"Am I too late?" another whispered voice, Derok's from the sounds of it, "I brought donuts,"

10 minutes later, they were gathered in the Fort Pike lounge.

"Well, that worked out great!" Quarterman was saying loudly.

"Tell me about it," Veksai said, "A year in the Fleet, and we can't even co-ordinate a lower-classmen feeding?"

"What are we going to do with all this food?" Quarterman went on.

By the time the last of the junior-classmen had shown up, the lower-classmen had already been woken at least twice, and weren't able to eat anything else. They just wanted to sleep. And so the juniors found themselves left with over a dozen spleen burgers, a box of donuts, half a pizza, two mammoth chocolate bars, two dozen cookies and a Steak on a Stick(tm).

"Time to chow down!" Baxter said, grabbing a spleen burger in each hand.

"You pig," Quarterman said, curling her lip.

"You love me anyway, babe," Baxter said through a mouthful of food.

"That's just gross," Bizkit said.

Despite serious cases of indigestion, everybody involved in the great lower-classmen feeding fiasco was formed up with the rest of the Antares Sector cadets, minus the lowers, early the next morning. As the cadets stood, shivering a bit in the chilly morning air, Sector Leader Buhras waited calmly, a broad grin on her face, as her Team Leaders took attendance.

"Igor…here. Drain, here. Adeth, here. Nuhville…absent."

"Big surprise," Igor muttered to Veksai.

"He's probably sleeping somewhere," Veksai replied, holding his stomach and belching, "When he was my roommate, it didn't matter what time I walked into the room…he was always asleep."

"Didn't he have classes?"

"Probably."

"All right everybody," Buhras was saying, "Some points for today. Make sure you sign up for your intramural teams…a couple of you still have to finalize your course schedules. Um, the USS Intrepid is going to be landing on the Academy grounds for some kind of open house thing later this month. Oh, and whoever keeps leaving dead rats and skunks in front of Fort Xixix, the Andorians living there want to thank you, but everybody else in the building would like you to stop."

"That wasn't any of us," mid-classman Adeth said, his green scales and bright red hair standing out in the early morning gloom.

"Which were we?" Vexnar, newly appointed Antares Sector Training Officer, demanded.

"We painted the Starfleet logo on the Federation University baseball diamond," Adeth said.

"Right before their homecoming game was broadcast on quadrant-wide holovision," mid-classmen O'Denth added, "But we honestly didn't know that was going to happen.

Buhras rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. Don't do it again. Ok, more points…um, if you're going to take the lowers out skylarking4, make sure nothing is damaged…"

As she went on, Baxter turned to Kodene.

"I wish I'd thought of that!"

"Hey," Quarterman whispered, leaning forward slightly in the ranks, "Are we still taking the lowers out tonight,"

"Yeah," Baxter whispered back, "Where do you wanna take them?"

"I dunno. O'Ryan's?"

"You kidding? The place is crawling with higher-years!"

Sneaking the lower-classmen out to pull pranks on other Sectors was a long-standing Academy tradition. They'd sneak into the other Sector buildings, snag a mascot, seal doors shut or program the replicators to start spewing shaving cream. Or, they'd hang broad banners across the streets running through the Academy. (There was also a statue of James Kirk in one of the gardens that found itself dressed as a pirate, a Klingon or a woman at least three times a week.)

But Veksai suddenly realized they weren't just taking about taking some of the lowers out for a bit of on-campus pranking. They were taking them into the city. The SNAP staff didn't care if the juniors were feeding the lowers, or taking them out on skylarks, or even filling them in on all the staff's dirty laundry. It was expected. But taking lowers off campus was strictly forbidden.

"Are you guys sure that's such a good idea?" Veksai muttered.

"Don't be a downer!" Baxter dismissed him with a wave, "It'll all be good!"

Two days later, Malespere and M'Kr'gr were meeting to plan out the lower-classmen Hell Night. Despite the name, Hell Night was more about introducing the junior-classmen and the lower-classmen than actually causing hell for anybody. It was a system that had endured for hundreds of years: The lower-classmen were at the bottom of the food chain. The senior-classmen were getting ready to graduate, and really could care less about the lowers. The mid-classmen, which included the SNAP staff, were just starting to shoulder the responsibilities of running the Academy Sectors, and were more concerned with whipping the lower-classmen into shape than in talking to them socially. With the junior-classmen relatively unoccupied and with their own lower year fresh in their memories, they naturally held the most empathy towards the lowers. Hence the feeding, the skylarking and Hell Night. It was a chance to bond a bit, to show the lowers that even though it might feel like everybody was against them, the juniors would still be there in the end to help them out. It was also a group exercise, a chance for the junior-classmen to reconnect and work together after their summer apart.

"OK," Malespere was saying, "You're game for something other than a lame-ass inspection, right?"

"I am," M'Kr'gr nodded, "I agree that a hard workout would be a better way to stress them up. We can take them for a run along this route," he pointed one clawed finger at a map of the Academy campus and its many jogging and cycling routes, "Out past the Simulation Center and the Merryweather Crash Memorial. We can them loop back towards Fort Pike, and use this area here," he pointed at an empty patch of field that Antares often used for morning workouts.

"Good. Then you and I can lead them back to the lounge. We can get some of the other juniors to get pizza or something," Malespere sat back, looking pleased with himself.

"You mean the juniors that are not leading the PT session with us," M'Kr'gr stated.

"No man, I don't want them involved in that," Malespere shook his head, "You and I are the most fit, we'll handle it. I don't want anybody slowing us down,"

M'Kr'gr frowned. Yes, he and Malespere were among the most athletic members of the Antares Sector juniors. He himself had almost doubled in width since his arrival. But Bahred was on the swimming team, and had started running as well. Gallium was always biking somewhere, and Verone was on the Academy Rigillian Soccer team. Even Veksai, nearly a decade older than many of them, wasn't far from matching M'Kr'gr's scores in the Academy fitness test. (Of course, he couldn't bench press his own weight the way M'Kr'gr could, but wasn't part of the testing process.)

He told Malespere as much.

"Ok, yeah, some of the guys are in good shape." Malespere admitted, "But what about Quarterman? Her ankle is still acting up. And if we take Kodene along, the kids are just going to be staring at him the whole time. No, this is something we should do on our own,"

"Dude," M'Kr'gr said, the Earth vernacular just popping out, "We are planning a group activity. We need the rest of the group!"

"They can hook up with us after the workout," Malespere insisted, "Get the lowers some pizza, put on a movie…it'll be just like last year, only without the inspection crap. You saw how last year's juniors were all running in different directions!"

"That was part of the plan," M'Kr'gr said, his voice starting to rise, "To confuse us, to keep us off guard, and to have a junior-classmen ready to 'motivate' any of us that needed it,"

"You and I can motivate the lowers just fine," Malespere shook his head, "We don't need the other juniors, they're just going to get in the way,"

"This is a morale-building exercise," M'Kr'gr was getting angry now. Just who did this human think he was? "We cannot build the morale of the group if we EXCLUDE most of the group!"

"Look, Graveti put me in charge," Malespere said, "If I don't make this work well, it's gonna make me look bad. I can't have Baxter or Derok doing something stupid to screw things up!"

"Then you need to deal with them! You can't cut everybody out because you are afraid of what some of them might or might not do!"

"It's MY call!" Malespere said loudly.

"It's a BAD call!" M'Kr'gr snapped back.

Out in the hallway, Bizkit was standing by the doors to the Brute Squad hallway, getting a headache.

"What's up?" Gallium asked, sauntering up.

"Everybody's yelling," she complained, "T'Henki and Junethec are screaming at the lowers, and now Malespere and M'Kr'gr are fighting about something.

"Why are they screaming at the lowers?" Gallium asked.

"Remember how Quarterman, Baxter and I were planning to take them to town the other day?"

"Ohhh no, you guys got caught, didn't you?" Gallium moaned.

"Nope. But Quarterman was still drunk when we got back, and she posted holo-images of us on her FederNet5 page."

"And the staff saw it," Gallium bit his lip.

"Yup. And they're not happy. I think the lowers might be stuck in Class D's all week."

The Class D uniforms, drab uniforms from the 23rd Century, were used as punishment wear as well as semi-formal. It was an easy way to indicate to the entire Academy that the cadet wearing them was in deep shit.

"What're Malespere and M'Kr'gr bickering about?"

"Dunno. Probably nothing that concerns us,"

Malespere and M'Kr'gr had circled the track twice now, and their argument kept reaching the same point. Malespere didn't want the other junior-classemen involved, and M'Kr'gr did.

"I do not understand this," M'Kr'gr was saying, "My species comes from three distinct cultures. Two of them have similar bonding rituals. As do many races, including humans. Why are you so opposed to this?"

"I already told you!" Malespere said, exasperated, "We're the best two people to handle this! I don't want any screw ups…everybody else can just meet us later!"

"Which make the entire activity about y…us and the lowers!" M'Kr'gr said. He'd almost said 'you and the lowers', catching himself at the last minute. That's what it was starting to sound like, anyway. M'Kr'gr was starting to wonder if Malespere would have included him if Graveti hadn't assigned the task to the two of them.

"It's not just about us!" Malespere insisted, "The rest of the juniors can join us for the movie! We're still including them!"

"Have you even asked any of the other juniors what they would prefer?" M'Kr'gr demanded.

"They're not running this show. I am." Malespere said flatly.

"And if this is the way you plan to run it, you will be running it alone," M'Kr'gr said, standing to leave.

They stared at each other for a moment. M'Kr'gr turned and started towards the door.

"OK, fine," Malespere said, "We'll talk to the other guys, and figure this out tomorrow.

M'Kr'gr nodded, then left.

The response was unanimous. Not only were the juniors adamant that they be included in the full event, there was a lot of surprise, even shock that Malespere would consider cutting them out.

Two weeks later, with the lower-classmen hitting their third weekend, the event took place. The Antares juniors were standing concealed in the bushes around the empty field. It had been agreed that Malespere and M'Kr'gr would rouse the lowers from their quarters, take them on a high-speed run around the campus, then bring them to the field.

As they waited, they could hear loud shouting, then a crash from Fort Pike. The side door flew open and Brute Squad came pouring out, moving with the frantic urgency that was drilled into every SNAP cadet. Come to think of it, they were moving REALLY fast. Gallium was about to comment on this when M'Kr'gr jumped out of the building, fangs bared.

Mystery solved.

There was another crash, and a window flew open.

"THESE ROOMS ARE DISGUSTIONG!" Malespere screamed, throwing an entire mattress out the window.

"He's really getting into this," Bizkit commented.

"Yup," Veksai agreed.

"I'm totally gonna puke," Derok said, the furry Tellarite, throwing back a can of Sluggo Cola.

"Then don't drink that stuff," Quarterman said, a note of 'well duh' in hier voice.

"But I wanna puke," Derok insisted, "I ate like five chocolate bars already. If I throw up halfway through the workout, it'll show the lowers just how hard they're going to have to push themselves,"

"That's the weirdest logic I've ever heard," Veksai said flatly.

"I wanna look hard-core," Derok said proudly.

Veksai just blinked, then turned away. He was beginning to learn that sometime you just had to shut up and let people do what is was they were planning to do, even if it was hair-brained.

They waited quietly for several minutes. Soon, they could hear the pattering of running shoes on the paved road.

"Ok, remember the plan," Bahred said, "Malespere and M'Kr'gr run the show. We just need to yell, shout, and do what we can to stress them out. Lots of shouting, but don't go too far."

Gallium rubbed his hands together. This would be fun! A bit of yelling, a bit of a workout…it would almost be as though they were part of the SNAP staff for a little bit.

Before they knew it, Malespere was bringing a sweating, panting squad of first years onto the field.

"Here we go," Veksai muttered.

What came next was pure pandemonium.

With a collective battle cry, the junior classmen leapt out of the bushes, surrounding the lowers as they stood in rank.

"DOWN! PUSHUPS!" Malespere shouted.

The lowers dropped to their hand, followed by half of the juniors.

"GET GOING, LOWER!" Bizkit screamed, "ALL THE WAY DOWN!"

"IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?" Gallium shouted, "PUSH IT HARDER!"

"SQUAT POSITION!" Malespere shouted.

"DOWN!" Veksai roared, "YOU CAN SQUAT LOWER THAN THAT!"

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU"RE DOING, LOWER?" Kumari screamed, "ARMS UP!"

With an energy that surprised even them, the juniors pounced on the lowers. Yelling, screaming and snarling. Kodene practically charged two scared looking lowers, one of which nearly wet himself as the squid-alien flared it's tentacles in all directions, nearly tripling it's apparent size.

"ARE YOU GIVING UP?" Wind, the small Asian girl demanded with a shocking ferocity, leaning over a cadet that had dropped to his knees halfway through a push-up, "A BIT OF HARD WORK AND YOU GIVE UP?"

"YOU THINK THAT KIND OF ATTITUDE IS GOING TO GET YOU ONTO A STARSHIP?" Bahred snarled.

"NO, JUNIOR!" the cadet shouted back.

"DO YOU THINK WE GAVE UP WHEN WE WERE IN YOUR POSITION?" Igor shouted at another cadet.

"BURPEES!" Malespere commanded.

"NO, JUNIOR!" another cadet blurted out.

"DO YOU THINK WE WERE SCARED TO WORK HARD?" M'Kr'gr growled.

"YOU THINK WE JUST SNIVELED, AND WHINED, AND DID A HALF-ASS JOB?"

"BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE YOU PEOPLE ARE DOING!" Gallium screamed.

"YOU PEOPLE," Veksai snarled, "THINK YOU CAN JUST WALK ONTO OUR CAMPUS AND TAKE IT EASY? YOU THINK YOU CAN GET THROUGH WITHOUT A LOT OF HARD WORK?"

And so on, and so forth. A psychologist probably would have had a field day with the event. It almost seemed like the juniors had pent up the frustration, the anger and the stress from their own SNAP and were now releasing it on the new lowers in one great rush of emotional rage. They yelled, they screamed, and they pushed the lowers to the limit of their endurance. Finally, the torrent subsided, and Malespere had the lowers form back into their ranks. The rest of the juniors disappeared back into the bushes, rushing towards the Fort Pike lounge and the pizza delivery hovercar.

By the time the lower-classmen reached the lounge, the juniors had setup a veritable buffet of pizza, pop and potential viewing selections.

"Help yourselves, guys," Quarterman said, pointing at the food.

"Hold up," Malespere said, "First, everybody run upstairs and get showered and into civies!"

The lowers cheered, then vanished, only to appear minutes later in street cloths.

"Man, that was cool," one of them, a short, boyish Rigillian was saying.

"I knew what was going on the whole time," another boasted, "I knew you guys were just messing with us,"

"Yeah, well, there was a reason for that," Malespere said loudly, drawing everybody's attention.

Of course, we don't need to rehash all that. You, the lucky reader, already had to read all that crap.

Once Malespere finished, the junior-classmen introduced themselves, followed by the lowers. There was B'kar, an energetic boy from an unknown, simian species. Labal, a big, grinning Bolian boy. MacDougal, a Scottish girl with bright red hair. Wronski, a muscular human. Pwal, a narrow-mouthed Raian. Nearly two dozen new faces for the rest of Antares Sector to try to memorize.

The talking faded, the eating began and on the wall screen an old movie started playing. Many of the junior-classmen took off, having other things to do with their Saturday nights. Still, there were enough there to see how the night would end.

The movie was just wrapping up when the SNAP staff returned. They knew what the juniors were doing, of course, since it was the SNAP Team Leader that had assigned Malespere to the task. But that meant they also knew that rules had been broken.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING IN STREET CLOTHS?" Junethec shouted angrily, turning red in the face, "BACK TO YOUR ROOMS AND GET TO BED, NOW!"

"Move it!" T'Henki commanded.

"Juniors, get out!" Graveti snapped, "OUT! NOW!"

As the lowers were herded away, the juniors discreetly made their exit. Except for Malespere, who was now dealing with a very angry-looking senior-classmen Graveti.

"What's that all about?" Gallium asked.

"I don't know," Veksai said thoughtfully, "But the SNAP staff sure didn't handle it well,"

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Yelling at us too? Breaking up an approved event like that?" Veksai cocked his head, "They sure didn't look very professional. Whatever. I'm over it."

"Marc wasn't supposed to let them wear civie cloths," Fastocheni said quietly, having joined them, "I overheard M'Kr'gr talking about it the other day. Marc wanted to do it anyway."

"And he got caught. Nice," Quarterman shook hier head.

"Well, as endings go, that sucked," Veksai said.

"Yeah," Gallium agreed.

"Couple more weeks until the Survival Challenge," Fast shrugged, "Then they don't have to worry about it,"

"Hmm. Well, I'm going to bed." Veksai took off.

"Wanna help me feed the lowers tomorrow night?" Quarterman asked Fast.

"Sure."

"And maybe we can draw pictures on their faces too!' s/he giggled.

"Why not. And we can tie their shoelaces together too, while we're at it," Fast replied.

"But not really," Gallium called after them, "Right?"

"We'll see," Fast said, giving an easy grin over one shoulder.

End.

Next: The new Brute Squad cadets are eager to finish their SNAP and join the Sector, but when something strange starts affecting Lt. Wellington, the junior-classmen are suddenly dealing with bigger problems.

1 Boothby is a sort of recurring Academy gag in Trek lore. He's this old, old gardener who's been at the Academy for as long as anybody can remember and always has exactly the right advice for each cadet. Convenient, huh?

2 Pipmen: I should have introduced this earlier. It's easier to refer to the various leadership positions as a group. At my school, they're called 'barmen' due to the small gold bars they wear on their collars.

3 Room Standards: A specific description of what items are allowed in your dorm room, where each must be placed, and in many cases, the exact size of the clothing item when folded. i.e. underwear folded into a 3 by 6 inch rectangle.

4 Skylarking – Prank-pulling

5 FederNet – Internet, messaging, IM, social networking/Facebook, all in one.


	9. Year 2 - Baby Steps

Copyright 2009

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

2.3 – "Baby Steps"

"Cadet Barnet, D32-45-57885-B, Brute Squad, Antares Sector, reporting all Squad members present. Request permission to eat."

"Denied," mid-classmen and SNAP Deputy Squad Leader T'Henkie said flatly, fixing the tall Lemnorian girl with a cold glare, "You are missing a member of the Squad."

At that moment, lower-classman B'Kar scrambled out of the food service area, receiving several looks of annoyance from the identical food service holograms. He slammed his tray down on the table, spilling some sort of pasty goo onto lower-classman Labal's tray. There was a perceptible but inaudible groan from the entire Squad.

"We are in the final week of SNAP, and you have still failed to properly account for your teammates," T'Henkie continued coldly, "Your meal time today will be 10 minutes and you can expect further consequences this evening."

With that, the Vulcan girl turned on her heel and walked stiffly over to the staff table. Seated nearby at one of the junior-classmen tables, Veksai, Fastocheni, Verone and Wind watched as the lower-classmen started frantically shovelling food into their mouths.

"Man, this isn't even fun to watch anymore," Verone said. Being from an Earth colony, her English was spoken, not translated. However, she had a noticeable accent that marked her as having grown up off-world.

"No, no it isn't," Fast agreed, "They're getting pretty sick of it, aren't they?"

"If they're sick, why are they eating so much?" Wind asked, her Asian face the embodiment of innocent blankness.

"Stomach tapeworms," Veksai said seriously.

"Really?" Wind frowned, "That's sort of gross. Can't the infirmary help them?"

"Nope," Fast said, not entirely able to hide a grin, "They're all going to die."

"That is so sad," Wind said, the sarcasm obviously lost on her.

As they left the dining hall, they passed a lower-classman squad formed up on the walkway. They were clearly being punished for something, as they were all bent over touching their toes. What didn't make sense was that they were chanting 'Stella-ella-ola' and wiggling their butts in the air.

"I'd ask somebody," Fast said uneasily, "But I'm not sure I really want to know,"

Veksai and Verone nodded agreement. They quickly walked away.

Later in the day, Veksai had taken the chance to escape off-campus, a luxury he'd rarely had in his lower year. He hadn't realized then just what a beautiful time of year it was. The sun was shining today, and the air was warm, though somewhat humid. It was a shame, really, that all the lower-classmen at the Academy were prevented from enjoying it.

He'd been in a somewhat unique position with regards to the lower-classmen, at least recently. As the Antares Sector Technology Officer, he'd taken it upon himself to create some kind of holo-recording, or imaging collection of the new Brute Squad's SNAP and Survival Challenge. The current Antares mid-classmen had done something similar for them, editing some of the automatic security recordings made by the holo-patios during the challenge, but Veksai was convinced he could do better. He'd also been tasked with ensuring all the lowers were properly setup with access accounts to the Academy computer systems. As a result, he'd been occasionally granted access to the lower-classmen hallway. And they were definitely ready for SNAP to be over.

For that matter, so was the rest of the Academy. It was strange, really. At the start of the month, SNAP had been almost the sole focus on campus. It was what everybody talked about. All anybody wanted to know was how the new lowers were performing, was SNAP hard enough this year, had anybody quit yet and were the new lowers suffering as much as they themselves had suffered during their own SNAP periods. Now, the novelty was fading. The lowers had been around for weeks, and there was a strong sense of anticipation, but also of impatience. It was time to end this, to integrate the new cadets into the Academy and get on with the more important tasks of teaching and developing the entire Academy cadet corps into capable officers.

The Survival Challenge finally came.

Gell Gallium was standing next to Aric Igor, just off the main avenue that led from the vicinity of Fort Pike to the central Parade Ring. According to the long-standing Academy tradition, classes for the afternoon had been cancelled and cadets from all Sectors had spent the past two weeks tweaking the Survival Challenge program into something that was challenging yet do-able. Despite the fact that it wasn't his own Survival Challenge, Gallium was still feeling incredible excited. Nor was he the only one.

"You guys all set?" Veksai asked as he jogged up, holo-recorder in hand.

"Yeah!" Gallium said, "It's gonna be great!"

"What are you doing?" Igor asked, pointing at the recorder.

"I'm taking images of you guys running with the lowers," Veksai answered, "Oh, there they come!"

He dashed off, looking for a good vantage point.

Looking back towards Fort Pike, Igor could see a group of cadets wearing the distinctive red and white shirts of Antares Sector. In the center, the lower-classmen were wearing helmets and carrying equipment. Already, they were surrounded by other members of the Sector as they lead them to the Parade Ring. Vexnar and Buhras were running along one side, the Andorian senior-classmen screaming that if they didn't perform well, he'd give each of them a severe beating. (A very mild threat, almost a term of endearment coming from him.) Buhras was cheering loudly. Even Kethnor was there, running behind them and shouting in a loud, boisterously Klingon voice. As Igor and Gallium watched, the group was joined by Fastocheni and M'Kr'gr, along with several senior-classmen. As the group passed another building, Bizkit and mid-classman Prithar joined the group. And the snowball continued, with white and red clad cadets joining every few moments, until Gallium and Igor too were swallowed up into the crowd, cheering on the lower-classmen as they approached the last challenge facing them before the end of SNAP. Gallium found himself cheering with a ferocious energy, swept up in the mood of the Sector.

As they approached the Parade Ring, Antares Sector was joined by Veltran Sector, Andorian Sector and Altair Sector. The Parade Ring itself was already crowded, shirts of all colours filling the space around Khitomer Building as the dozens of Sectors flooded in around the large, boxy holo-patios. Waves of energy swept the ring, each Sector convinced that their lower-classmen were the ones that would be putting on the best performance.

The Sector cadets fell back to the observation bleachers that had been setup, while the lower-classmen Squads formed up in front of their respective holo-patios, bouncing with nervous energy. After a brief message from the Academy Commendant, the Challenge began.

It was, the junior-classmen noted, a very similar Challenge to their own. The lower-classmen found themselves in a forest clearning, in the middle of a rainstorm, all simulated by the holographic systems in the holo-patios, of course. Cadet Pwall had been named Squad Captain for the Challenge, and wasted no time in ordering B'Kar to start scanning with his tricorder. They quickly detected a shuttle, and moved off in that direction.

As Brute Squad had the year before, the new Brute Squad encountered various obstacles along the way. A quicksand pit, a rope bridge, a steep escarpment. All of the junior-classmen found themselves yelling and cheering, even though the lowers could barely hear them over their own shouts.

In a way, it was almost a inverse image of the Hell Night put on the juniors weeks before. Then, they'd unleashed a torrent of insults, harsh commands and scorn that they themselves couldn't explain. Now, they found themselves caught up with the rest of the Sector as they encouraged and cheered the lowers. Before, the lowers had almost been invaders; a group of aliens (pardon the pun) trying to push their way into the Antares Sector world. Now, with the Survival Challenge underway, the lowers were practically part of the Sector. They had been working for weeks to prove themselves, and were on the very cusp of success.

The lowers had reached the shuttle and were being ferried up via autopilot to a Regula-class space station. It was considerably smaller than the Waystation-class used the year before, but instead of a terrorist group, the lowers found themselves dealing with a group of rampaging Mugatos1. Luckily, cadet MacDougal realized that they could be eliminated using the stations anti-intruder defence.

With a loud chime, the holo-patio shut down, leaving a very confused-looking Brute Squad standing there. Team Leader Graveti was on them in an instant, thrusting the red Antares Sector orb into Pwell's hands.

"Go!" he snapped, pointing at the massive stone Federation Emblem near the Parade Ring exit.

As one, lower, junior, mid and senior cadets bolted, running for the emblem. Mutara Sector was already ahead of them, with Vulcan Sector quickly approaching from the opposite direction. The junior-cadets, after their course last year, now knew that it wasn't simply a race to be first to the emblem; there were points and penalties that would determine the ultimate winner. But the lowers didn't know that yet, and were scrambling like mad to be the first ones there.

"THIS IS IT, BRUTE SQUAD!" Bahred found himself shouting, echoing Buhras' words from a year before, "THIS IS THE END!"

They arrived right on the tail of Vulcan sector, their yellow orb already slid into its slot in the blue and white emblem. Terran Sector was fitting their dark blue orb into place, and the marbled blue and white orb of Andorian sector was already fitted. With a SNICK, Pwell slipped the red Antares orb into its slot, electing a deep chime from the monument. As the lower-classmen dissolved into a shouting, cheering pile-up, joined by many of the other Sector members, Vexnar tapped at his padd, then turnied to Sector Leader Buhras.

"Third place," he said, nodding with satisfaction, "Not bad at all."

With the Survival Challenge finished, the junior-classmen jogged back to Fort Pike. As tradition dictated, they handled laundry and such for the lower-classmen, allowing the new Antares Sector members to get the hell off campus and, where applicable, spend time with the parents and family members that had come to witness the event. As with the year before, the campus quickly emptied out. Lower-classmen wanted to unwind after SNAP, the SNAP staff likewise were in desperate need of time off. And for the rest of the Academy, it was time to relax one last time before the routine and drudgery of the semester set in.

The doors separating the Brute Squad hallway from the rest of the Sector living quarters were unsealed. The lower-classmen communications terminals were reactivated, and they were granted access to the Fort Pike lounge and other Academy recreational facilities. For the lowers, it would be a time to settle in to Academy life and, to a lesser extent, start to get a feel for what living in a paramilitary organization like Starfleet would be like.

For the rest of the Academy, it was now business as usual.

"What's your class load like this semester?" Gallium was asking Veksai as the two walked from the dining hall to Khitomer building.

"Busy," Veksai grunted, "The senior- and mid- classmen in my program keep telling me the junior year is the worst year,"

"Oh yeah? Must be an engineering thing. My schedule isn't bad at all," Gallium said cheerfully, oblivious to the dark looks he was now receiving from Veksai and neighbouring cadets, "You're in computer engineering, right?"

"Yeah," Veksai grunted, "And can somebody explain to me why a computer expert would need to know about xeno-nutrition?" he gestured angrily at the course schedule displayed on his padd.

"Dunno. You going isolinear or bio-neural circuitry streams?"

"At this point? I'm more worried about passing my junior year, thank you!"

October and mid-terms passed without serious incident and life at the Academy continued. Kumari's new red-headed friend, Cadet Ross, was a frequent visitor to the Antares Sector lines, much to Veksai's annoyance. Somehow, having Kumari as a next-door neighbour was bringing out the big-brother behaviour in him. Having Malespere across the hall was bringing…nothing, really. Well, aside from mild disgust after the French cadet seduced one of the new lower-classmen. Fastocheni continued his work with the fencing team, Wind continued her Tae Kwon Do, and Bahred continued to push himself on the swim team. But as the year progressed, one small topic of discussion was starting to raise its head.

"So," Bahred asked Gallium, "what sort of pip position are you applying for next year?"

"SNAP staff," Gallium said immediately, "you?"

"SNAP staff," Bahred said.

"Any idea who else is applying for it?" Gallium asked.

"Uhhh…Malespere. M'kr'gr. Kumari. Veksai…probably Quarterman," Bahred said, frowning as he considered.

"Wow. Lt. Wellington is gonna have a hard time with that one," Gallium said.

Bahred suddenly paused.

"Y'know, I really haven't seen him around much lately. Have you?"

"He was in his office the other day for a bit," Gallium said. "He didn't look that good, come to think of it."

The two cadets looked at each other uncomfortably. Lt. Wellington was the Antares Sector Commanding Officer. Technically, he was in full command of the cadet Sector. In actuality, the Academy preferred to let the Cadet Sector Leaders manage their squadrons, with the officers acting as advisors, or handing serious issues like formal disciplinary charges or the more serious, career-altering paperwork. Still, if something was wrong with the Lt, then Antares Sector was potentially in trouble.

"Have you talked to him lately?" Bahred asked.

"No," Gallium shook his head, "I've started with the Academy Debate Team, and I've been spending a lot of time with Michelle,"

"Michelle?" Bahred asked.

"My girlfriend,"

"I thought you were dating somebody named Kimberly?"

"We broke up. Now I'm dating Michelle,"

"Right," Bahred smirked. Nobody in Antares Sector really believed that Gallium had a girlfriend. A boyfriend, maybe. But not a girlfriend.

"Have you heard anything about what might be wrong with the Lieutenant?" Gallium asked him.

"Well, didn't he have a baby last month?"

Gallium frowned.

"I thought human females gave birth to your young," the Bolian asked innocently. He was suddenly distracted as an attractive, petite girl walked by.

"Michelle! There you are!" he said, giving the girl a quick peck on the cheek, "Sorry Bahred, I gotta run. We're going into town for dinner,"

"Have fun," Bahred forced out, his eyes bugging out in surprise.

"Nobody's going to believe me," Bahred said to himself, turning towards his room. Realizing that he was finished for the day, he prompted started stripping out of his grey and yellow uniform jumpsuit. Talk around the Academy was that the powers-that-be were planning on bringing back the old Class-E uniforms, the all-red uniforms worn in the 23rd Century. Somebody how they felt that the Academy should maintain its own image and traditions, separate from the constantly changing look the rest of the fleet seemed to have adapted. But for the moment, Bahred was more concerned with a shower than he was with the dress code.

Throwing on a robe, he padded down the hall to the men's washroom, right next door to the ladies washroom and across the hall from the hermaphroditic alien washroom. The steam from the showers told him somebody was already there. Sure enough, M'Kr'gr and Fast were standing under the nozzles. M'Kr'gr was simply glowering as he washed, while Fast was deep in conversation with Roger.

"If you want to see the world outside, why don't you just go?" Fast was asking the sentient mold-pile, "I mean, you don't want to spend the rest of your life in the bathtub, do you?"

"Indeed…not…" Roger wheezed, "In fact…I have…begun evolving…legs. Perhaps next…I will work on…fingers."

"That's cool!" Bahred said, hopping under a shower, "You can, like, evolve whatever body part you want?"

"Yes," Roger said. Its voice was emerging through a vaguely mouth-like orifice near the top of the pile, "By the way…why do you have…an eleventh finger…that is not on your hands?"

"Um…"

"Roger, did you evolve eyes?" M'Kr'gr asked suddenly.

"Yes,"

Bahred and Fast suddenly moved to cover themselves.

"Oookay, and it just got creepy," Fast said, keeping his ass to the wall and his other parts well covered.

"Humans," M'Kr'gr muttered. He stepped over to the bathtub and pulled the frosted glass shower panel closed.

"Apologies, Roger," he said, "But some of us," he eyes flicked to the other two, "are complete babies."

"Pay it no mind," Roger replied, its voice slightly muffled.

There was a jolt as the entire building seemed to tilt to the side, sending Fast and Bahred sliding to the floor.

"EARTHQUAKE!" Bahred cried, scrambling to his feet.

"This whole building's gonna collapse!" Fast whimpered, gaining his feet only to slide to the floor again.

Digging his foot-claws into the floor, M'Kr'gr simply picked the smaller humans up, slinging one of them under each arm like footballs.

"I will be back for you, Roger," he said.

"Jolly good,"

"My face is way too close to your naked butt!' Fast whined.

"You prefer to stay here and die?"

The building had stopped shaking, but was still swaying side to side. As M'Kr'gr ran down the corridor, other cadets were rushing into the hallway. He reached the entrance foyer and was about to run out the front door when he skidded to a stop.

The ground was about 30 feet below him and drifting further away.

Carefully backing up, he tried to puzzle out what was happening.

"What the f-" Malespere asked, peering out the door. It took a moment to convince the crowd of cadets behind them that running out the door was a bad idea.

"Would you three like a moment alone?" Veksai asked from behind them. M'Kr'gr suddenly realized that he was buck naked, carrying two other naked males. He dropped them like they were on fire.

"I thought our lives where in danger," he said uncomfortably.

"So you decided to have a threesome?" Quarterman asked, taking a quick peek over the edge of the doorway then moving deep back into the room.

M'Kr'gr growled. Loudly. Bahred and Fast ran back to get their robes, the sounds of laughs and guffaws following them down the corridor.

"Why is our building flying?" lower-classman Barnet cried, the abnormally tall Lemnorian girl bracing her hands on the ceiling, "Is our building supposed to fly? Why didn't anybody tell us it could fly?"

"It can't," Cadet Sector Leader Buhras said, hands on her hips and an annoyed look on her face. She looked down at the ground, pointing out a group of cadets as they laughed and pointed up at the decrepit, floating building. "OK," she demanded, "who pissed off Andorian Sector?"

Nobody said anything.

"Hey," senior-classman Solaris said, "Isn't today the day the Intrepid is supposed to be landing on the Academy grounds."

"Isn't today the day you're supposed to take me to your room and show me everything that sexy British accent is good for?" Quarterman sighed.

"Slut!" Baxter giggled.

"It is," senior-classman Nowel, the Sector Administrator, said.

"Why is that important?" lower-classman Pwell asked.

Suddenly, the whole building shook as 16 decks worth of starship suddenly flashed by the front door, narrowly missing the levitating building as it soared towards the landing field.

"AIIIEEEE!" Kumari screamed, stumbling out the open door as the ship thundered by. Kodene, moving faster than anybody but Bahred would have expected, twined two tentacles around the door supports and snagged Kumari's ankle with a third.

"Shall I bring her in," it asked, oblivious to Kumari's frantic screams, "or let her drop, tuck and roll?"

Within an hour, a series of workbees2 had caught up to Fort Pike as it floated serenely over San Francisco. Civilians pointed from ground level and from the windows of various high-rise buildings as the crumbling stone building was manoeuvred back onto its foundation on the Starfleet Academy grounds.

Sector Leader Buhras had gathered Antares Sector together just outside the building.

"I want to know if anybody did anything to piss off Andorian Sector, before I go up to the DirCat and start raising hell," she demanded, no sign of her usual giggles showing on her face.

Slowly, one hand shyly rose.

"Lower-classman Scooter?" Buhras crossed her arms, "Please, explain."

"Um, well," Scooter, half-human and half-Selvian3, was a small male with an aura that bounced between innocence and mischief faster than kittens on a trampoline, "Y'know how they were all happy about the dead skunks and stuff left by their building?"

"What did you do," Vexnar, an Andorian and the sector's expert on Andorians demanded.

"We sort of…put a lot of cute, fluffy bunnies in one of their windows," Scooter confessed.

"These bunnies," Vexnar demanded, breaking ranks and moving to confront the now cowering lower, "were they alive or gutted, perhaps with their internal organs artistically displayed?"

Scooter gulped.

"Alive,"

"Well no wonder the Andorians were pissed off!" Buhras snapped, "Didn't any of you pay attention in your Culteral Studies class? Class-D's for all lower-classmen for the next week, and you're confined to campus for the rest of tonight! Dismissed!"

As the lowers groaned, the rest of the Sector started shuffling back into the building.

"Man," Fastocheni said, "Labal is going to be pissed. He was supposed to come hang out with the fencing team tonight,"

"Which on is Labal?" Veksai asked, "I can't keep their names straight yet,"

"The big Bolian guy," Fast said, "The one that's about twice Gallium's size,"

Hearing his name, Labal drifted over.

"I can't help it if it takes a while to memorize 20 new faces," Veksai said saying, not noticing the Bolian boy.

"Sounds like you need a hand, Mr. Veksai," Labal said, darting in and seizing Veksai in a giant bear hug. The older cadet, arms trapped by his sides, gave an expression of absolute terror.

"It…it's HUGGING ME!" Veksai squeaked, turning panic-stricken eyes towards Fast, "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

"Aned Labal," Labal said, releasing Veksai, much to his relief, "And I guarantee, now you'll never forget me!"4

With a wide grin, he moved off. Fast was doubled over laughing as Veksai stood there, arms still tight by his sides and the look of terror still on his face.

"That was NOT funny!" Veksai fumed.

"Yes it was!"

A week later, just as the lower-classmen could enjoy wearing their regular uniforms again, Veksai was seated at his desk in his small, Fort Pike room. He'd started leaving his door partway open while he did his homework; partly to avoid giving the impression that he was trying to avoid people, but mostly because he liked having the sounds of his neighbors and Sector-mates drifting in, along with the occasional visitor.

Even though those visitors sometimes meant he got less work done.

"Hey, have you heard the news?" Gallium asked excitedly, bursting into Veksai's room.

"About the Warrior's Lounge getting trashed again by the Andorians? Yes." Veksai replied, not looking up from his n-Dimensional Calculus.

"No, about-"

"The fencing team beating FU? Yeah, heard that one too,"

"No!" Gallium sat on Veksai's carefully bed, finally causing the other cadet to turn around in annoyance, "It's about Lt. Wellington!"

"Oh yeah?" Gallium suddenly had Veksai's attention, "He's barely been in all week. What's up?"

"Well, I heard from Stamp over in Veltran Sector, who heard from Wooling in Terran Sector, who heard from Bilbringi over in Rigel Sector-"

"Gallium, I have a lot of work to do here," Veksai said sharply, gesturing at the padds spread out all over his desk.

"Well, it seems he's done something that has the senior officers at the Academy all upset," Gallium said, "Bilbringi never heard what, but they're talking that he's going to have to leave for a while, and they're not sure whether he's ever going to come back,'

"Oh," Veksai was quiet for a moment, then frowned, "Well, that's too bad. He's been a good CO, at least from what I know about what a CO is supposed to do,"

"I'm telling you, there's something beefy about this!" Gallium insisted.

"Beefy? I think you want to say 'fishy'," Veksai said, "Big difference,"

"Whatever! I like, really think something's queer!"

"You mean 'weird'." Now Veksai was trying hard not to giggle, "Look, I have a lot of work to do, Gallium. If you here something a bit more concrete, I'm sure you'll be able to get somebody to listen to you."

Shrugging, Gallium left.

"I'm telling you, Baxter, you can't keep doing stupid shit like this!" Bizkit said, trying to wipe up spilled bear in the Logicians Lounge, the campus hangout that catered to Vulcans, Zakdorn and other more cerebral races, "You don't stumble into somebody else's place and dump beer all over the floor!"

"Unless it is Crott's room," Kodene rasped, referring to a very boisterous Brikar cadet.

"This is not Crott's room," a tall Vulcan student said, raising an eyebrow in disapproval.

"Look, just give me a minute and we'll have him out of here," Bizkit promised.

"This sort of behaviour is neither logical nor becoming a future officer," a second Vulcan added, looking at the Antares cadets with a look of disdain.

"Neither's your mother!" Baxter slurred, lurching towards the aliens, "Huh? Yeah!"

"In what way does your inebriation involve our parents?" the first Vulcan asked curiously.

"Cuz I'm gonna f-"

"BAXTER!" Bizkit snapped, punching him on the arm.

More Vulcans were being attracted by the noise. Of course, considering that the Logicians Lounge was usually so quiet one could hear a pin drop, the noise was hard to miss. One started moving towards the panel that would no doubt summon campus security.

"Is there a problem?" Another Vulcan had joined the fray, but Bizkit recognized this one.

"T'Henki!" Bizkit exclaimed, "It's just Baxter, he's being an idiot!"

"Hardly a change from normal occurrences," T'Henki observed, "Come, my companion will handle the mess. Let us get Mr. Baxter back to Fort Pike, immediately."

The other Vulcans looked from T'Henki to Bizkit.

"You are in Antares Sector?" he quieried.

"Well, yeah," Bizkit said. Baxter was sticking his tongue out at a Vulcan woman seated at a nearby table.

"Say no more," the Vulcan nodded, "Simply take your ill-tempered companion and depart, with our sympathies,"

As they pulled Baxter back to Fort Pike, Bizkit turned to T'Henki.

"Well, they were nice at the end," she said.

T'Henki's mouth tightened, the closest the Vulcan girl got to expressing anger or frustration.

"They…do not hold Antares Sector to the same standard they would hold most cadets to," she finally said.

"Yeah, well, people warned us about that last year," Bizkit shrugged.

"It has become worse," T'Henki said, "Especially this semester."

"But we've hardly DONE anything this semester!" Bizkit objected.

"Precisely," T'Henki said, "However, as the last impressions Antares left were negative, nothing has changed to reverse that low opinion. And, with the current leadership challenge, little is being done to help Sector morale. It is, a regrettable, but perhaps unavoidable, situation."

Bizkit was about to ask her what she meant by that when Baxter interrupted the conversation by vomiting all over the street, and Bizkit's brand new shoes.

"Where is everybody?" Vekai asked Kumari. It was later in the week, and Fort Pike felt deserted. He'd popped next door to her room to take a break from Introduction to Material Dynamics. He just couldn't figured out why he, a computer engineer, needed to know about the tensile strength of duranium compared to transparent aluminum.

"Malespere and M'Kr'gr are at the gym," Kumari replied, looking up from her computer, "Bahred's at swimming practice, I think Bizkit is in Prithar's room…"

"Are they dating or something?"

"Uh, only for the last month!" Kumari gave him a 'd'uh' look, "Speaking of which, you got a date for the Holiday Ball next weekend?"

"That's next weekend?" Veksai's eyes widened, "Oops!"

"I guess that means you're not taking a date," Kumari giggled.

"Unless Ross has a mysterious accident, my beauty," Veksai jokingly got down on one knee and took Kumari's hand.

"Fat chance," she laughed, snatching her hand back playfully.

"You can't marry her, she's dating Ross," cadet Wind called as she passed by the open door to the room.

Veksai jumped to his feet.

"OK, ball next week. Maybe that'll take Gallium's mind of this thing with Lt. Wellington,"

"What thing? You mean like, how he hasn't been around much at all this year?" Kumari asked.

"That thing. Gallium's a bit obsessed."

"Did you guys ever consider just asking the Lieutenant what was going on?" Kumari crossed her delicate arms.

"Nope," Veksai shrugged, "I kinda figure, if we need to know, he'll tell us,"

"I don't want to tell anybody in my Sector about this,"

Gallium really didn't mean to evesdrop on Lt. Wellington. Well, that's what he told himself, anyway. It wasn't his fault that there just happened to be a fairly comfortable couch in a hallway junction right next to Wellingston's office in Fort Pike. And so what if he wanted to sit back, relax and watch his squadron-mates as they came and went about their business. And if the voices from Wellingston's office just happened to carry well enough that they could be heard by somebody seated at the couch and listening carefully, well, was that in any way his fault?

"Most people would say that keeping secrets only leads to trouble," the voice was male and calm. Gallium wasn't sure, be he didn't think the speaker worked at the Academy.

"Most people don't find themselves in situations like this," Wellingston said tiredly, "What do you want me to tell them? That things have already gone horribly wrong, and that if they get worse, my kid's gonna die?"

"Well, it couldn't-"

"They already told me that I should keep this quiet," Wellingston cut the mysterious speaker off, "Look, there's just no reason for me to drag Antares into any of this. It's my own personal problems, and they don't need to get dragged in,"

"So when are you going to do it?"

Wellington paused before answering, presumably deep in thought.

"Next weekend," he said finally, "It's the Holiday Ball. Everybody's going to be too busy buying gowns, or getting hair done, or hoping that their girlfriends are going to put out to worry about one missing officer,"

"If only they knew how much misery females could cause, huh?"

"Hey," Wellingston sounded angry now. Strange. Gallium couldn't ever recall actually hearing heat in his voice, even last year when Baxter had been caught with a micro-brewery in his room.

"This is my kid we're talking about here," Wellington went on, "And it doesn't matter what happens, I love her,"

There was another pause.

"Even if I…if I have to bury her,"

Veksai, M'Kr'gr and Fast were gathered in M'Kr'gr's room while the latter two competed in a game of Hal 263. (No video game had ever spawned so many sequals.) Veksai was frowning at the Into to Optical Data Networking assignment when Gallium burst into the room.

"Somebody's kidnapped Wellingston's kid! Or is poisoning them, or is going to cut off body parts, or something!"

"What?" Fast spun in his seat to face Gallium. As he did, M'Kr'gr took advantage of the distraction to blast Fast's avatar to pieces.

"I now have the lead," the reptile said, grinning.

"Hey, NO FAIR!"

"Aren't you guys listening?" Gallium was getting frantic now.

"Yes, just the way you've been listening to too many rumours," Veksai said, "Hey, does anybody remember the addressing scheme they use on the LCARS networks?"

"Look, I was just sitting next to his office when-"

"Eavesdropping, huh?" Fast asked, turning his attention back to the game and still managing to die horribly.

"No, I was just listening to Wellington and this other guy talk," Gallium insisted.

"That would be eavesdropping, kiddo," Veksai said calmly.

"Look, whatever," Gallium leaned on the edge of M'Kr'gr's bed, "The point is, he kept saying that his kid might die, and that he had to go do something next weekend, and that he didn't want us to get involved because whoever has his kid told him not to tell anybody about it!"

"Um, why would he get us involved anyway?" Veksai asked, "That's what Starfleet Security is for,"

"Yeah," Fast agreed, swearing under his breath as M'Kr'gr killed his avatar with a perfectly placed head shot, "We're cadets. If they need our help, then they're already boned."

"He is correct," M'Kr'gr agreed, "A warrior-in-training is a last resort on the battlefield,"

"Do you guys really want to risk a baby girl's life?" Gallium asked.

That got everybody's attention.

"What do you mean?" Fast asked, pausing the game this time before setting down his controller.

"He means," Veksai cut in, suddenly understanding, "That if things do go wrong, and we could have made a difference, how would we feel afterwards?"

Fast and M'Kr'gr exchanged looks.

"I just know I'm going to regret this," Veksai muttered.

"I already regret this," Fast agreed.

The four cadets had been keeping as close an eye on Wellington as possible, given their classes, mandatory sports, clubs, and in Veksai's case, the stream of computer-illiterate cadets that his position as IT officer required him to deal with. But as the weekend and the Holiday Ball edged closer, they came to realize that keeping an eye on Wellington just wouldn't be good enough.

Fast, being the most charismatic of the group, had managed to talk one of his professors into loaning him a few fairly innocent pieces of technology for a few days. Veksai, being the more technically inclined, had programmed the tiny transceiver and computer chip into a homing beacon that would let them track Wellingston without setting off every sensor on or above the Western Hemisphere. And, for some reason, the two of them had been talked into hiding the tiny device on Wellingston's person. The two of them had snuck into his office while the Lieutenant was having lunch. Barely a day remained before the Ball.

"What the hell can we put this on that we know he's going to take with him, even if he's going off to meet kidnappers?" Veksai wondered, staring at the various items on Wellingston's desk.

"We totally shouldn't be in here," Fast said nervously, head darting from side to side.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Veksai groaned.

"Oh, how about this?" Fast asked pointing at Wellingston's briefcase.

"If he didn't take it to lunch, do you think he'll take it to do whatever he's doing this weekend?"

"Ummm…"

"Something that's going to stay with him for at least another day." Veksai mused. His attention was sudden focused on Fast, who had unwrapped a chocolate bar.

"What?" Fast asked through a mouthful of chocolate, "When I get nervous, I get hungry,"

"You're a genius," Veksai said, patting him on the shoulder and rushing out towards the replicator.

24 hours later, Gallium and Michelle were nicely getting seated at the Academy Holiday Ball. Last year, the Ball had started off normally enough with dinner and a dance or two, but within a few hours had degenerated into a drunk-fest that in the end had embarrassed most of the cadets and staff of the Academy. Luckily, the fiasco had ensured that somebody a little more responsible was put in charge this year. Gallium didn't know mid-classman Micdanels, but she'd apparently planned well. The security team was scanning everybody who came in for alcohol bottles, and the tables themselves had been scanned three times already.

Veksai was seated at a nearby table with Veksai, Ross, Verone and Verone's boyfriend, a half-Klingon cadet by the name of Forture. Veksai was making some kind of lame joke about how Forture rhymed with Torture when Gallium noticed Fast and his date settling in at another table. Gallium raised his eyebrows in Fast's direction. Fast shrugged, then gestured towards Veksai. Gallium tried to get Veksai's attention by clearing his throat, but he must have been too far away, as Veksai was now listening intently to the history of the House of Payne, to which Forture apparently belonged. Gallium shrugged at Fast, who shrugged back. Annoyed, Gallium started making hand gestures that he felt told Fast that he should go get Veksai's attention. Fast however, thought that Gallium was implying that he wanted to have very rough sex with Fast's date. Annoyed, Fast flipped him the finger.

And so on, and so forth, until their tables were finally called up to get their meals.

Dinner passed without a hitch, and no sooner had the food line closed when a holographic swing band materialised on the stage. As a few of the older couples (staff and their spouses, mostly) moved onto the dance floor, Fast and Gallium converged on Veksai.

"Anything yet?" Gallium demanded.

"Cool your jets, blue boy," Veksai said. He dug his tricorder out of his pocket, "According to this, Wellington's pacing in his office."

"Good move, putting the tracker in a doughnut," Gallium said.

"Yeah, you already told us that back in the food line, the second time you pestered him to find out what Wellington was doing," Fast said.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go dance," Veksai said, cracking his fingers.

"With who, you didn't bring a date!" Gallium said.

"Oh, Gel," Veksai smiled, throwing an arm around the younger cadet, "You see, guys your age never dance to music like this, no matter how much their girlfriends want to."

He left and approached Verone. In a matter of seconds, he was leading her onto the dance floor while Forture and Ross debated the parentage of their Andorian language teacher.

"I guess being old counts for something after all," Gallium said, surprised.

Unlike the previous year, the Academy Holiday Ball was turning out really well. The fieldhouse of the Sulu Athletic Center was well-decorated, and as the swing band was switched off in favour of a demonstration by the Andorian Tango Club nobody had been kicked out, or even gotten sick. Veksai was just thinking that the night was turning into a pretty good one when his tricorder vibrated in his pocket.

Wellington was on the move.

"He's going to have a half-hour lead on us!" Gallium whined.

"You're going to have a lead on me, at this rate," Veksai puffed. He and the three others had had to break into jogging to keep up with M'Kr'gr. They'd watched as Wellington's signal moved closer and closer to the Academy Transporter Terminal, vanished, and reappeared across the continent up in the Canadian Region.

Of course, Wellington had used the staff transporter, which was off-limits to cadets. By the time Veksai had found Gallium, Fast and M`Kr`gr at the ball and by the time the four of them had ridden the tram to a public transporter terminal in San Francisco, Wellington had boarded a hover-taxi and was racing away from the transporter terminal at a rapid rate.

"Take the next left," Veksai informed their cab, eyes fixed to his tricorder.

"Confirmed," the computerized navigation system replied, "Please note that a set destination is more efficient than giving directions to an auto-cab,"

"We'd give you directions if we knew where we were going!" Gallium said, voice high-pitched, "Just go faster!"

"Command unclear, please repeat…"

"Piece of crap!" M'Kr'gr snarled.

"Don't fight with the computer," Fast said calmly.

"He stopped! 8 blocks ahead!" Veksai called, "He's out of the cab!"

"Let's go!" Gallium urged.

They waited until they'd reached Wellington's debarking point, then bolted in the direction indicated by the tricorder.

None of them bothered to read the sign on the building.

"C'mon! Gallium urged, "Wellington might be watching his little girl get cut to pieces already!"

"Why would they do that if he was bringing them ransom stuff/" Fast asked.

"We don't eve know that's what this is," Veksai gasped, "Um, did anybody think to bring a weapon?"

"Oops,"

"I am a weapon," M'Kr'gr said, flexing his claws.

Gallium turned pale.

"Not much good against a phaser, buddy," Fast said.

"Right around the next corner, then 20 meters ahead!" Veksai said.

"Excuse us," Gallium said, pushing a white-clad woman aside.

"Waitaminute," Veksai suddenly said, coming to a halt.

"Why are there people here?" Fast asked, "And why are they wearing…uniforms?"

Sure enough, the woman Gallium had pushed aside was wearing a nurse's uniform. So was the man seated behind a nearby reception desk and giving them a nasty look.

"This is a hospital…" Fast said, trailing off.

"We're too late!" Gallium gasped, "They already-"

"SHHH!" M'Kr'gr pushed them all back around the corner as Wellington turned around. Luckily, before he could wonder about the commotion, he was approached by an elderly, greying doctor in dark red operating scrubs.

The four cadets could barely catch the conversation.

"-operation was a complete success," the doctor was saying, "Highly unusual, a situation like this slipping past the natal examinations, but not impossible. Anyway, we've corrected the-"

But Wellington wasn't paying attention anymore. He'd sunk into a nearby chair, his whole body radiating relief.

"She's going to be fine?" he asked the doctor.

"Absolutely," the doctor assured him, "We\ll keep her here for a couple more days, of course, but she'll be back home before you know it,"

"Thank God,"

As Wellington rose back to his feet, presumably to visit his daughter, Veksai nudged Gallium and Fast.

"I think we should go," he said softly, "This really isn't any of our business,"

They left.

"So," Veksai said as the four of them rode another auto-cab back to the transporter terminal, "What did we learn?"

"Never listen to Gallium," Fast said immediately.

"Yes, but aside from that,"

"Don't jump to conclusions," Gallium said, blushing a deep purple.

"And that if Wellington had needed help, he would have found a way to request it,"

"Well, maybe not if he was trapped on a planet during a mission with some kind of fanged alien about to cut his heart out," Gallium said. M'Kr'gr smacked him.

"Oh. Sorry."

"That's the nice things about being cadets," Veksai mused, "As long as we're at the Academy, we don't really have to worry about getting involved in anything that's too 'life-or-death'. In theory, anyway."

"Other than my n-Dimensional Calculus exam," Fast grunted, "Which I haven't studied for all week thanks to this stuff,'

"Other than that."

Gallium perked up.

"Hey, if we get back to the Ball right away I can still introduce you to my girlfriend!"

The other three exchanged a look, then smirked at him.

"Uh-huh!"

"Doubtful!"

"As-if!"

End

Next: Up until this point, the Antares junior-classmen haven't had to worry much about responsibities, or pip positions. But when Lt. Wellington announces that selections for the next years positions are open, everybody hits the ground running with one goal in mind...next on Star Traks: Crash Course!

1 Bit white ape-aliens with a poisonous bite.

2 Tiny shuttles used for orbital construction and hauling cargo within planetary orbit. I imagine they have other uses, as mentioned here.

3 Not sure if I spelled this right. Then Selvians/Selvanians were an elf-like race that popped up in Peter David's New Frontier, and I don't have the books in this province to check. Not to be confused with the Selvan, a nasty energy being that did many naughty things in Star Traks: Waystation.

4 Yes, this incident actually happened. And yes, I now remember the first-year cadet's name perfectly.


	10. Year 2 - Assembly

Copyright 2009

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

2.4 – "Assembly"

Starfleet Academy: Bastion of learning. A place where future officers came to work, bond, learn and strive to reach their potential.

But who gives a rat's ass? Really?

In an organization that spans hundreds of planets spread over thousands of light-years, a single institution is really nothing more than a miniscule speck, a needle in a haystack, a rock in a field. With the need to provide hundreds of thousands of officers on thousands of ships, space stations and planetary bases, it was impractical (and impossible) for a single training facility to meet the demands. Not to mention how much it would suck to spend a year traveling to school, then another year travelling back.1

As a result, most of the Federation citizens who became Starfleet officers did so at a Starfleet Academy Annex: education centers spread across over a dozen planets and starbases that, according to them, provided the same quality education provided by the original Academy on Earth. Of course, any officer that had attended the 'real' Academy held that the Academy on Earth was naturally superior. Conversely, any officer that attended an Annex held that graduates of the 'real' Academy were stuck-up snobs.2

So you've got hundreds of thousands of officers, many of whom have never even stepped foot on Earth. When you consider the trillions of sentient beings in the Federation, you're right back down to the needle in the haystack.

So, in the end, who really cares about Starfleet Academy?

If you ask somebody with power and/or wealth, somebody like the Dillons or the Simms of the galaxy, they'd scoff, give you a pitying look and reply "That's where the poor kids who couldn't get into Harvord, Oxford or the Vulcan Science Academy go." If you asked the average citizen on the street, they'd probably give you a blank look, then realize "Oh yeah, I guess they have to train all those people somewhere." And, of course, you'd have the anti-military, anti-government types who would hand you a flyer and say something like "Peace, man. We don't need giant ships full of weapons. Just spread the love." You could try pointing out that Starfleet's mission was exploration, but the attention span of the average stoned hippie probably wouldn't last long enough.

The answer then, is that not a lot of people really give a damn. On the other hand, scattered around the core Federation worlds, millions of young students were in the process of wrapping up their final year of primary education, either at an Earth High School, a Vulcan Training Sphere or an Andorian Battle-School Arena. Of the thousands of students actually planning to enter Starfleet, a fraction would find their way onto the Academy grounds come the following September, Earth time.

Little did they know, events were already being put into play that would drastically effect their first semester at the Academy.

Starfleet Academy: Fort Pike

January

Akavarti Kumari was just about on top of the world. She'd returned home from a great holiday on Banda 4 about a week ago. Her parents, the ruling couple, had finally stopped flat out suggesting that she should come home and find a nice Indian man, like any good princess should. Now they were down to subtly hinting. Her boyfriend, Cadet Ross, had been waiting for her at the San Francisco Transporter Terminal, and her transcripts showed that she'd passed all of her exams from the following year.

The petite dark-skinned girl was just in the process of tying her long, flowing black hair into the requisite Starfleet Bun when there was a knock on her door.

"Heeeeyyy girl! What's up!" Marc Malespere came in, arms in the air. Archie Bahred, his best bud, was right behind him. Slimmer and more wiry than the stocky Malespere, Bahred was also from Earth. The three of them had become nearly inseparable during their first year at the Academy.

"Hey, Kumari, are you almost ready to…oh…hi," this was Steven Veksai, Kumari's half-human, half-Orion neighbor. He gave Malespere a cold look, then greeted Bahred. Malespere ignored him and started walking down the hall, in the direction of the first morning's class. Kumari didn't know what had happened between Malespere and Veksai during the last semester, but the two had definitely had a falling out of some kind. She and Bahred still got along with him well enough, though as the first semester of second year had progressed he'd started spending more time with Igor, Gallium, Fastocheni and some of his computer classmates that Kumari didn't know.

Well, whatever.

As they exited Fort Pike and started walking towards Khitomer Building, the main academic building, they were joined by several of the Antares Sector lower-classmen.

"So, did you guys hear they're not mixing the lowers in with everybody else this year?" Aned Labal, a bulky Bolian boy asked.

"Yeah, they're keeping us all trapped in our own little corridor," Jefth B'Kar added. Nobody was really sure what species B'Kar was, but he looked vaguely like a human crossed with a monkey. Wronski, the third lower in the group, said nothing. As usual.

"That's a dumb idea," Malespere said, "We totally fit in way better after they moved us into the other Squads,"

"Totally," Bahred agreed.

"I agree," Veksai nodded.

"At least you guys get to be Brute Squad for another semester," Kumari shrugged.

"Oh yeah," Labal scoffed, "Cuz the first semester was such a piece of pie,"

"Cake," Bahred corrected.

"There are advantages to keeping you guys in one squad though," Veksai mused.

"Oh yeah?" B'Kar asked, "What's that, Mr. Veksai?"

Veksai grimaced. He hated being called 'Mister'. I just made him feel so…old.

"It means," he said coolly, "the rest of the Sector has easy access to slave labour,"

Kumari and the other junior-classmen found that amusing. The lowers, not so much.

Another semester, another course load. At this point, the start of a semester had passed 'routine' and was bordering on 'mundane'. Their classes were all pre-assigned, based on their majors and their career paths. The timetables were processed by the computer and appeared automatically on the Academy InfoNet and each class was introduced basically the same way. 'Hi, I'm Professor Insert Name and this term we'll be learning…'

On the more Starfleet side of things, life was a bit more exciting. Senior-classman Ahnk had taken over Buhras' position as Sector Leader. All the pip positions had changed for the semester, with the exception of Veksai, who held onto the Technology Officer position for simple reason that none of the other junior-classmen had the skills or desire to take the job. With all the leadership changes, it was really no surprise that Ahnk called a Sector meeting while they were still in the first week of classes.

"Welcome back everybody," the Asian-looking girl said warmly, "I'm sure you all know me, I'm senior-classmen Ahnk,"

"I'm positive I've never seen her before," Veksai frowned.

"That's because you don't get out enough," Kumari whispered back.

"Have you SEEN my course load this semester?"

Senior-classmen Noig gave him a poke and he clammed up.

"So, priorities for this year," Ahnk was saying, "First, we need to make sure all the loose ends are tied up for the graduating senior-classmen-"

"Oh yeah!" senior Solaris cheered.

"Second, we need to address the Sector morale problem,"

Suddenly, she was again the center of attention.

"Look, I know it's no secret that our…reputation has taken a bit of a dive lately," Ahnk said, "Lower- and junior-classmen, this is a bit before your time. But we've had a couple of bad years. Now, the new pipmen have been trying to puzzle this one out. Our performance academically has been good, our lowers came in third in the survival challenge, and our intramural teams are holding a healthy average."

"But there have been things said in the Sector lines, things that have happened and comments made to other Sectors that have been pointing to a serious problem: A lot of people in Antares sector have a very low opinion of Antares. And we need to correct this."

Ahnk was now looking out at them gravely.

"So, the Sector seniors and I are going to be working on ways to boost Sector moral, but we put it out to all of you: If you have problems or issues with somebody in the Sector, or with the way the Sector is run, bring it up to us. Don't just let it fester. If you have ideas for boosting Sector moral, pass them to O'Denth. Any questions?"

"I'd like to make a comment, Ms. Ahnk."

Heads snapped towards the door and more than a few spines stiffened when the cadets saw that Lt. Wellington was standing in the door.

"Sir!" Ahnk snapped to attention, "Please,"

Wellington walked into the room. A pleasant human (or human-like alien) in his mid-thirties, Wellington had been the Antares Sector Commander for nearly two years and was looking forward to getting back into space.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "As I'm sure you noticed, I wasn't around much last semester. A lot of things slipped past my attention, and I wasn't there to give senior-classmen Buhras the support she needed. I want to apologize to all of your for not giving you my full attention."

Veksai, M'kr'gr, Fastocheni and Gallium exchanged uncomfortable looks. They'd not only noticed Wellington's absence and near-depression, they'd gone snooping into the Lieutenant's business just enough to find out that it'd had something to do with his daughter…and that it seemed to be resolved.

"The issues were largely personal," Wellington went on. (Gallium looked very embarrassed now.) "But to sum up, my daughter was born with a very serious medical problem."

At this there were gasps. Bizkit brought her hand up to her mouth and Quarterman paled.

"In any event, this semester I'll be back to my regular work schedule,"

Fast's hand shot up. Wellington nodded in his direction.

"Is she OK?" Fast asked.

"Oh! Yes, she's fine. Full recovery."

There was a palpable sigh of relief.

"So, Ms. Ahnk will be doing her best to get the Sector back in order. She has my full confidence, and my full support."

With that, Wellingston nodded and left.

"OK Antares," Ahnk said, "Let's turn this thing around!

February

Within weeks of the meeting changes were already becoming visible in the Antares Sector hallways of Fort Pike. First, the faded info-boards displaying images and information on the Sector intramural teams were updated. New images of the Andorian water-polo, jhad-ball and even Klingon hockey teams had been put up, along with their standing against other Sectors. Information on Academy clubs had been updated and posted in the lobby. And a serious of homemade motivation posters had appeard, such as a picture of Vexnar and O'Denth dragging a very drunk Noig with the caption 'Antares Sector: Making or breaking as a team'. Or a picture of Roger the sentient mold-pile in his bathtub with the caption 'Fort Pike: 'Nuff said.'.

It was a good start.

Kumari was sitting calmly in her room when Gallium burst through the door, not bothering to knock.

"Guess what!" he asked excitedly.

"DO YOU MIND?" Kumari snapped peevishly, her inner princess suddenly jumping to the surface, "What if I'd been changing? What if I'd been naked? What if Ross and I had been in the middle of-"

"Now that wouldn't happen," Veksai cut in, his head peeking around from his own doorway, "You'd never let him do that. You're still pure,"

"And how do you know that?" Kumari demanded, shocked at the man's nerve.

"Because my whole image of you would shatter like a cheap mirror if you ever gave it up," he called.

"Ohhh…that's so…" Kumari frowned, "Hey! Shut up!"

"Um, about my news…" Gallium held up a hand.

"I can't help it," Veksai said, coming out into the hall, "You're just far too sweet and innocent,"

"Um, hello? You live RIGHT NEXT DOOR TO ME!" Kumari objected, "These walls are, like, paper thin!"

"Tell me about it. I heard Graveti's girlfriend giggling half of last night," Veksai complained.

"Um, I came here to talk to you guys…" Gallium tried again.

"Well, I guess I know who to introduce my father to the next time he's out," Kumari put on what, in her mind, was a dark, annoyed face. To everybody else, she just looked cute.

"Goody," Veksai shrugged, turning back to his room.

"THEY WANT THE PIPMAN MEMOS IN!" Gallium insisted loudly.

"The what?" Kumari asked.

"Really?" Veksai perked up.

In an attempt to encourage cadets to improve their leadership and other officer-type skills, the Academy had put into a place a system where senior cadets took on the role of managing and administrating the rest of the cadets. The system was hardly new, and had been used for centuries in old Earth military academies. As junior and lower classmen, Kumari and her classmates hadn't had to worry about pip positions, aside from a few like Veksai chosen to be computer-tech officers. With their third year under a year away, it was time for them to start taking on some role in running Antares Sector. The Sector Commander and senior-classmen were responsible for selecting cadets for pip positions, but to apply for a position a cadet had to submit a memo.

"When are they due?" Veksai demanded, "Do they want anything in particular for SNAP staff?"

"Yeah, I gotta go talk to my Team Leader about it," Gallium said, "Who's your Team Leader again?"

"I don't have one," Veksai said, tapping the silver pips on his uniform collar, "I report to the Admin Officer…Solaris."

"Oh, right," Gallium was quiet for a moment.

"So what positions are you guys applying for?" Kumari asked.

"SNAP staff," the two males replied immediately.

"I know, but which position?"

"Oh," Veksai shrugged, "Deputy Squad Leader. I figure I've got a bit more management and admin experience then you guys. Plus, there won't be as many people applying."

"Are there a lot going for SNAP staff?" Kumari asked.

"Us," Gallium said immediately, "Quarterman, Baxter,"

"Malespere," Kumari added, "Bahred,"

"M'kr'gr," Veksai said, "I think Wind is applying too,"

"Who isn't applying?" Kumari asked.

They exchanged glances.

"Good question."

"OK, Antares," Sector Leader Ahnk was standing in front of the ranks of Antares cadets, "Next week the Academy is rolling out the new Class E uniforms. Before you all get your replicator patterns, Cadet Gallium and Cadet Bizkit have offered to demonstrate them for us."

"Just like Gallium to hog the runway at the fashion show," Igor whispered to Derok.

"New classy uniforms?" Derok wondered, "I thought these were old uniforms. Those red things they wore in the 23rd Century."

"They've been updated a little," senior-classman Drain said. The canine alien was fighting the urge to scratch his ears with his foot-paw so hard his whole body was starting to vibrate. "See the Sector badge, and the pips?"

"Oh, yeah…"

Gallium and Bizkit had walked out of Fort Pike wearing his and hers versions of the new (old) uniforms. They were coloured a deep red, almost the same colour as the formal jacket the cadets wore on special occasions; the same jacket worn by the Fleet during the Project Genesis3 crisis. The high, stiff collar looked like it might be a bit uncomfortable, but the females were (mostly) pleased to see that they at least had a skirt option with this uniform. (Kodene was wondering where he was going to fit all his tentacles, but assumed that they'd tailor a version specific to Valvattians.)

"This is totally going to suck," groaned mid-classman Prithar, a human with a somewhat pasty complexion.

"Are you for real?" mid-classmen Adeth, a red-headed reptile demanded, "What about women in short skirts could possibly suck?"

"They're too long to show anything above the knee," complained Prithar.

"So? We just hack into the replicator patterns, make a few alterations…"

"Hmmm…good point…"

Further down the ranks, Veksai was muttering to Fastocheni.

"You got your SNAP memo in yet?" he asked.

"Nope," Fast said, "I'm not applying,"

"Really?" Veksai exclaimed. Ahnk gave him a dirty look, so he dropped his voice back down, "Why not? You'd be great for it!"

Fast looked slightly embarrassed.

"I flunked n-Dimensional Calculus," he said, "I gotta focus on my studies. I can't afford to lose a month chasing after lower-classmen,"

"Oh," was all Veksai could manage.

March

"I don't get why everybody on campus is getting worked up over these pip things," Dylan Baxter said, taking a swig of his beer and wobbling slightly on his seat, "I mean, it's just more work. Why do I want more work? I don't!"

"You applied for SNAP, just like I did," Quarterman said glumly, "except I doubt I'm going to get it,"

"Me neither!" Baxter exclaimed, "I just applied cuz it'll look good on my record. I've got better things to do than watch a bunch of little punks run around,"

"If you aren't careful, you are going to run out of places to drink," Kodene gurgled.

The three of them were sitting up on the roof of Khitomer Building, dozens of stories above the ground. The top level of the tapered building was narrow, and the Academy's deflector shield generator took up most of the space. It had been a warm but cloudy day when they'd snuck up the stairway to the roof, the security sensors having been disabled by a group of cadets from another Sector. Somebody was always disabling the security sensors because there simply was no better vantage point than the peak of Khitomer Building. They'd lugged a small keg of beer along with them. The keg was now wedged between two shield emitters, a tap screwed in near the bottom. As the sun started drifting down towards the horizon the clouds had thickened. Now, the sun was obscured by storm clouds and lightening was starting to flash through the sky.

"I'm thinking it's time for us to go," Quarterman said.

"Naaw, it's time for us to watch an awesome show!" Baxter said, "Besides, if things get bad, they'll just hit the shields,"

None of them gave any notice to the metal beer keg now attached to the shield generator.

Across the bay, in Starfleet Operations, Lieutenant Jakob Sart was supervising a team of ensigns as they monitored the storm.

"We're seeing a 300% increase in lightening hits in the San Fransisco area," Ensign Feg reported, "Weather Services say we're due for a good storm, so they're not touching this one,"

Weather Services was always caught in the middle of the unending battle between the environmentalists who wanted to allow nature to run its course, the city-dwellers who wanted a bright, sunny day and the farmers who wanted whatever their crops needed.

"We're seeing precipitation picking up in the south" Ensign Robertson added, "Looks like there's going to be a lot more,"

"We're seeing instabilities in the power grid due to lightening strikes," Feg cut in, "Automatic switching systems are rerouting, but if the lighting keeps increasing…"

"All right," Sart nodded, "Let's raise the shields over HQ, the Admiralty and the power station. Environmental strength only. Oh, better put the Academy shields up too."

Up on Khitomer building, Quarterman had had enough.

"Baxter, it's raining, I'm getting wet and my 90 credit hairdo is being RUINED!" s/he snapped, "Time to go!"

"Just another minute…do you hear that?"

Behind them there was a sudden hum from the shield generator as the ring of shield emitters slowly started to rotate, taking the beer keg with them. As they watched, swirls of energy started to form, then surged out as they formed a perfect dome over the Academy campus. Or what would have been a perfect dome, if two emitters weren't in the process of shorting out thought a poorly placed beer keg. Instead, a quarter of the campus was still exposed to the storm, including the power grid connection between San Francisco and the Academy.

"Let's go," Kodene said.

"Um…yeah," Baxter gulped, running towards the exit.

"What's the story with those shields?" Sart demanded.

"Green lights from HQ and the Admiralty. San Francisco Ops reports they've raised shields over the power facilities,"

"Problems with the Academy generator," Feg cut in, "We've only got partial coverage. Trying to compensate…"

As Feg increased power to the problem-causing emitters, she unfortunately remained unaware that the cause of the short wasn't a branch or some other chunk of refuse. Still, her attempts to fix the problem might have worked if the energy coursing though the keg hadn't brought the remaining beer to a boil. Pressure built in the keg until, eventually…

KA-BOOOM!

Hot beer sprayed out, coating the shield generator, dripping into nooks, crevices and finally delicate circuits. The technicians who'd installed the generator had certified it waterproof, but nobody had thought to certify it beer-proof.

Unfortunately, just as the shield generator blew with a deafening WHHOOMMPPHH, a thick bolt of lighting speared down from the sky and struck the power transfer systems connecting the Academy to the power grid. Before anybody even knew what had happened, power went out through the entire campus.

In a small, run-down conference room in Fort Pike, Sector Leader Ahnk was seated with her deputy, mid-classman Larashentali, Solaris the Admin Officer, Vexnar, now Training Officer and the three Squad Leaders.

"OK, so the replicator patterns for the new uniforms are out," Ahnk was saying, "Make sure everybody has a set by Monday. Oh, and Solaris and I are sending out the interview invitations for SNAP staff next week. Finally, we still need more ideas for bringing up Sector morale. Making all those posters for the corridor walls was a good start, but we need to do more to show people that it's GOOD to be in Antares-"

At that moment, the power died.

"Uh-oh…"

"Shitty old building, I bet Fort Hillier doesn't…"

"Under attack?"

"…Borg?"

"The rest of the Academy is out," Vexnar said, his tone clipped as he peered out the window, squinting to make out the city across the bay, "But the city and Starfleet HQ have power,"

As the rest joined him at the window, another flash of lightning struck a nearby building, sending a shower of sparks into the air.

"Some idiot didn't raise the environmental shields," Vexnar concluded, his tone now simply annoyed, "We will be sitting in the dark all night!"

Ahnk suddenly moved towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Solaris asked.

"This is a perfect morale opportunity!" she called back, "Somebody get on the line and get us pizza. Lots and lots of pizza. ASAP!"

M'kr'gr and Malespere sat in M'kr'gr's room. M'kr'gr was mixing post-workout protein supplements for the two of them while Malespere carefully measured his body-fat percentage. Rain was spattering the old windows of Fort Pike and puddles were starting to form on the street outside.

"I tell you, a lot of juniors in Antares would make good SNAP staff," Malespere was saying, "But we'd make the best, you and I. And Bahred. Maybe Kumari,"

"Gallium is a strong possibility," M'kr'gr said thoughtfully, "He is very fit, and his academics are above average,"

The upper leadership of Antares Sector had informed all the candidates that the SNAP positions would be filled based on the performance of the candidates in the areas of focus for the Academy: academic average, fitness rating, Fleet skills and an interview. This of course had led to rounds of speculation on who was likely to be chosen, based on what they knew of their classmate's performances.

"Then we can probably rule out Quarterman," Malespere said, "Her marks aren't that great, and she has had a recurring hip injury,"

"Verone will be a strong candidate," M'kr'gr continued, "she is a leading member of the Academy jhad-ball team and has excellent marks,"

"I'd rather see Kumari there," Malespere frowned, "Look, we know they're probably going to want females on the staff, along with non-humans. They want to mix it. You'd fit the non-human role…"

So would Veksai, Quarterman or Gallium M'kr'gr thought.

"Kumari would be great in the female role…"

As would Verone, Wind, perhaps Quarterman. Bizkit, were she applying.

"And you and me are two of the most fit juniors in the Sector!" Malespere finished.

Except that Bahred can run circles around both of us, Gallium can cycle for days on end and even old Veksai was barely 5 points behind my score on the last Fitness Evaluation. Come to think of it, Veksai also had very high academics,..

"I tell ya, that would be the best team. Us, Bahred and Kumari."

"It would be an excellent team," M'kr'gr nodded, "But there are still other good choices as well."

"For sure," Malespere shrugged, "But that's the team I'd pick if I were in charge,"

M'kr'gr agreed that that would, in fact, be an excellent SNAP team. But it wasn't up to him or Malespere to select the new SNAP staff, and there were several other good choices. M'kr'gr couldn't help but notice that Malespere's dream team just happened to include his closest friends. He also couldn't have helped but notice that Malespere's standing with the Sector wasn't quite as high as it once was, especially after the incident with the new lowers during SNAP earlier in the year.

He wondered if Malespere had noticed those little items as well.

There was a flash of lightening outside then the power went out.

Kumari was sitting in the dim light coming in from her window and contemplating going to bed very early when she heard the shouting in the hallway. The windowless corridor was even darker, but she could just make out what was happening in the dim emergency lighting.

"Listen up, Antares!" it was Sector Leader Ahnk, "As you've noticed, the Academy is without power. Now of course this means a few things. First, Academy defences are down. Starfleet Security is handing it, so there's no real reason to be concerned, but lower-classmen are being posted around the Academy gates, outside Khitomer Building and the Experimental Warp-Reactor labs. Also, the dining halls are running on emergency power. No replicators and no holographic staff."

There was a series of groans up and down the corridor as everybody realized this meant a meal either hand-prepared by cranky cadets pushed into service as kitchen workers or consisting of cold rations.

"So Lt. Wellington and I have authorized an alternate menu for this evening," Ahnk finished, looking slightly smug.

The doors at the end of the hall opened and Solaris, Vexnar and Prithnar walked in, each of them weighted down by the weigh of several pizza boxes. The groans turned into cheers.

"Hey!" Vexnar snapped as Baxter and Kodene snatched two of the boxes from his arms, "If either of you eats my spleen and bacon pizza, I shall vivisect you both!"

"Oh, is there vegetarian?" Bizkit asked.

"Do you know what the Andorian word for 'vegetarian' means?" Vexnar asked, looking slightly disgusted.

"No. I'm studying Rigellian as my second language."

"It means 'very poor hunter'," Vexnar replied.

"Ohhh, did you get me some kibble with anchovie?" Drain yipped, wagging his tail.

"Kibble on pizza?" Veksai frowned.

"Better than human pinapple," Drain replied, snagging a slice.

"I want sausage!" Quarterman declared loudly, hunting through the boxes as they were laid out on a table somebody had found.

"Use your own," Baxter giggled.

"That's dis-GUSTING!" Kumari cried.

"This is going to go straight to my hips," Gallium complained, "Maybe if I scrape off the toppings-"

"Are we SURE that girl he brought to the ball wasn't a hooker?" Junethec asked.

"HEY!" Gallium objected, "My girlfriend is NOT a hooker!"

"Uh-huh," Veksai said sceptically, hunting through the pizza pile for a slice of good, old-fashioned pepperoni, "If you're still dating girls in five years, I'll eat my comm-badge."

"Well then I hope you like your food sharp and pointy!"

"Isn't there any puppy & kitten chunk pizza?" M'kr'gr asked, running his tongue over his fangs.

Drain started barking loudly as the other cadets made sounds of shock and/or disgust.

"Wasn't on the menu," Vexnar said, "But spleen & bacon is close," he offered the reptilian cadet a slice of his pizza.

"Not bad," M'kr'gr decided.

By the next morning the storm had passed and power had been restored to the Academy. An investigation was underway to find out just who had jammed a beer keg into the deflector shield generator, but given the sabotage to the security sensors and the damage to the crime scene caused by the generator shorting out, it was unlikely that the culprit would ever be caught. Given that beer was involved, the powers-that-be were willing to chalk it up to student immaturity rather than enemy sabotage.

Strangely enough, Antares Sector had been the only Academy Sector that had thought to order in as a group due to the outage. The senior cadets in most of the other Sectors had taken off to town for supper, leaving their junior and lower years to their own devices. Or, specifically, to the devices of the cadets that had would up spending their evening trying to cook. Terran and Vulcan Sectors had brought in crates of cold emergency rations while Denobula Sector had attempted (without success) to fish for their supper in the bay.

Kumari found herself in her Introduction to High-Energy Dynamics lab near junior-classman Cuirass. Cuirass was one of Veksai's computer engineering classmates, but since High-Energy Dynamics was a common course, all the various Eng/Ops cadets were mixed into different classes.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Cuirass complained as Kumari carefully programmed the scaled down navigational deflector dish4 she was working on.

"Please don't puke on my lab," Kumari said, "I need to get this thing producing a beamed tachyon pulse before the end of the period or I'm going to fail this assignment!"

"It's those rations," Cuirass went on as Kumari entered in another string of commands, "I'm not sure if they're going to make me puke or give me the runs,"

"EWWWWW!" Kumari cried, "Can you, like, totally not talk about that?"

There was a menacing gurgle from Cuirass's stomach.

"Why didn't you guys just order pizza?" she asked, "That's what our Sector Leader did,"

"Really?" Cuirass clutched his middle, ignoring his lab setup, "I wish ours had thought of that. What Sector are you in?"

"Antares,"

"Ohh yeah, with Veksai. Huh. I thought Antares never did anything right,"

"Hey!" Kumari spun towards him, grazing her particle beam with her hydrospanner and nearly vaporizing it, "Sure we do!"

"Hey, I'm just repeating what I've heard!"

"Yeah, well," Kumari fumbled with the tool, "Which of us had pizza, and which of us is about to explode?"

"Good point," Cuirass groaned, getting up and heading quickly to the bathroom," But by the way, we're supposed to be making a pulsed tachyon beam, not a beamed tachyon pulse!"

As he left, Kumari turned back to her notes. Yup, he was right.

"Shit!" she grumbled, resetting the beam and getting ready to start again. At this right, she was going to be in the lab all night!

Veksai was sitting on the desk in Adon Solaris' room while the older cadet got ready for his role in the Academy drama club's presentation of Black Comedy. (An amusing British play where the audience sat in the dark anytime the lights in the fictional setting of the play were on, and had lights during the 'power outage' that drove the plot.) As the Sector Administrator, Solaris was Veksai's boss so long as the latter remained the IT Officer.

"So, Baxter's managed to get yet another virus on his console," Veksai reported, "I don't know how he does it…the Academy has so many hunter-programs…but he keeps figuring it out. Oh, and the security reports on the lowers is done,"

"Yeah, just leave it on my desk," Solaris said, fiddling with a hydrospanner that had been painted gold, "I gotta get ready…this is our last performance,"

"I saw it two nights ago," Veksai said, "it's great. I almost burst a gut"

"Thanks, man," Solaris nodded, "We're giving the stage hands these gold tools tonight. Sort of a think you, y'know?" Solaris started tossing the hammer back and forth and chanting.

"This is my gold-en spanner! This is my gold-en spanner!"

Veksai, used to the older cadets strange sense of humor by now, simple laughed. What he wasn't expecting was for Solaris to toss the spanner just a bit too high, hitting himself in the nose and letting lose a burst of blood.

"Oh my God!" Solaris exclaimed, holding one had to his nose and looking at the blood. "that was AWSOME! HIGH-FIVE!"

Struggling between laughter and concern, Veksai slapped his hand, then went to find a tissue.

April

Veksai, M'kr'gr, Malespere, Bahred, Quarterman, Gallium, Kumari and Verone were seated in a conference room in Zzzrixix Building. Of the dozen or so junior-classmen in Antares that had applied for SNAP staff, those eight had been chosen to be interviewed for the four positions available. Ahnk and Wellington had opted for a group interview, in which the candidates would round-robin through the questions. Other Sectors had their own way of selecting their SNAP staff, such as the traditional Andorian Sector fight to the near-death, or the Vulcan Sector debate. Antares, however, took a more methodical approach.

"Of the different areas of focus here at the Academy, which one do you think lower-classmen should be focusing on?" Ahnk asked, after giving a brief welcome and introduction. She was running in full 'professional-look-at-me-I'm-becoming-a-commissioned-officer-in-a-month' mode, "Malespere, why don't you start with this one?"

"Athletics, totally," Malespere replied, "Like, you gotta get fit right away."

"Thank you. Bahred, your thoughts?" Ahnk prompted.

"Um, I, uh, think that you have to focus on all of them," Bahred said, his voice a little uncertain, "They're all important,"

"Verone?"

"I agree with Mr. Bahred," Verone said, taking her cue from Ahnk and adding the 'Mister'.

"Agree with Mr. Bahred," Gallium said when his turn around.

"I agree that you have to cover all of them, but I'd want to focus on Athletics and Academics the first month," Veksai said when prompted.

"And why do you want this position?" Ahnk asked, once everybody had had a chance to answer the first question, "Mr. M'kr'gr, start us off."

"It is an opportunity to pass on what we know," he said.

"Veksai," Ahnk said.

"I want to make sure our new lowers learn the habits they need to graduate. And once SNAP is finished, I want to make sure they keep using them."

"Malespere,"

"I've been really successful so far, and I want to teach them to do what I've done-"

"Verone?"

As the questions continued, Kumari noticed a couple of things. First, Ahnk was cutting people off after only a sentence or two, making it important that they made their points quickly. Also, there really wasn't much variety in the answers. She knew that part of that was due to the fact that they were all in the same room, listening to each other. But a large part of it was that, for the most part, they did truly agree on many aspects of SNAP. She found herself watching the posture of her competitors, more than listening to their answers. Malespere was lounging a bit in his seat, giving off that vibe that Veksai claimed was cockiness but that Kumari though was just confidence. Bahred looked the most nervous of the group, stuttering through a couple of questions. Veksai looked like he'd sat through several of these before, which given his age was likely. Gallium had that same eager, earnest expression he usually had.

Ahnk was going to have a very, very hard time making a decision, Kumari thought again.

"What's your overall goal here at the Academy, Bahred?" Ahnk asked.

"Uh, like, learn how to be the best, right? Just work hard, learn what you need to know and be the best," Bahred swallowed.

"Verone?"

"Pass all my courses, and get the soccer team to finals for once,"

"M'kr'gr?"

"I want to become a test pilot," M'kr'gr said, "And so I will be working to excel in the classes I need in order to make that kind of career path possible,"

"Veksai?"

"I want an education that I can use in the fleet, but that will still be useful in the civilian world if I choose to leave the fleet,"

"What would you do if you found one of your lowers drinking in their rooms?"

This was a loaded question. Synthehol was readily available at the Academy lounge, but strictly forbidden in the dormitories. Some cadets kept a bottle tucked away anyway, and provided they caused no problems the senior cadets rarely made an issue of it. After all, they were legally adults and the Academy was the only institution in the entire Starfleet that prohibited drinking in private quarters.

"Won't allow it," Kumari said, "I mean, you have to set the example,"

"It's not that big a deal," Malespere said, "Like, if I don't know about it, I can't do anything about it, right?"

"If I see it, I can't let it slide," Veksai said, "I'd have to take action,"

And so on.

"True or false: it is possible to be friends with your subordinates."

"Sure," Gallium said, "I mean, as long as they follow your instructions,"

"I agree," Malespere said, "Especially after SNAP. You can be in charge, but they can still be your buddies."

"I agree," M'kr'gr said.

As the question went around the table, Kumari noticed that Veksai was frowning. She didn't know why…the answers all seemed to reflect the general attitude of Antares Sector. Everybody felt free to chat up Ahnk, or Buhras when she'd been in charge. The formal 'Mister' and 'Miss' had largely been dropped after SNAP had ended. What was wrong?

"Mr. Veksai?" Ahnk prompted.

Veksai took a breath.

"I have to disagree," he said. There were guarded expressions of surprise around the table. So far, none of them had gone so far as to flat out disagree with the rest. Was he trying to blade them, or did he have a valid point?"

"In my last job I had to maintain a professional distance from my trainees," Veksai explained, "Here, in the Starfleet environment, it's even more important. I mean, there are things I do and say with my buddies that I'd never want one of my lowers to see or hear. Like stumbling home drunk, y'know?"

"I agree," M'kr'gr said after a moment.

"It's a good point," Bahred nodded.

"Well, that about rounds out our questions for today," Ahnk said, standing, "I wanted to thank you all for coming today. I really have to say, this is going to be a hard decision. You're all so close together in the rankings that your score on this interview is going to be a big part of who's chosen."

As soon as the candidates were out of earshot of Ahnk, Wellington and the other Sector seniors, there was a burst of nervous conversation.

"Man, can't believe I said that-"

"Interview is that important?"

"How are they going to decide that?"

"I don't think I'm going to get it-"

After the jibbering had subsided, they started heading back to their assorted classes.

"You don't look too happy," Kumari said, catching up to Veksai as he headed towards the Montgomery Scott Experimental Propulsion Laboratry.

"Aside from the fact that I have an exam in Warp Field Theory in a week and still don't understand half the equations?" he grumbled.

"C'mon, you just finished a really good interview," she prodded.

"I know. But…y'know. I heard Ahnk talking about the rankings the other day,"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm fifth," Veksai sighed.

"So? You've got as good a chance as the rest of us. Especially with your academics." Kumari shook her head, "I know I'm not all that likely to get it, but you don't see me moping!"

"I know. But we were all neck-in-neck in that interview," Veksai shrugged, "It means to get on the SNAP staff I've got to do better in my interview than the top four ranked cadets did,"

"Who are they?" Kumari asked.

"No idea. Probably M'Kr'gr, Malespere, Verone and either Gallium or Bahred."

"Hmmm. You're probably right." Kumari shrugged. "Ah well. Once exams are done, we'll find out."

"Yeah. I just wish we didn't have to wait another month."

The next month was a busy one for the Academy in general as classes wrapped up and exams began. Many of the senior-classmen were especially stressed. Buhras had to climb to the roof of Fort Pike and bring Drain down after he started howling at the moon, bringing up noise complaints from neighbouring buildings. Vexnar had started eating squirrels at an alarming rate, to the point where the squirriloids of Ramson 6 lodged a formal complaint with the Academy administration. Kethnor broke two junior-classmen in half during a sparring match and the city had banned him from hunting in any of the forests near San Francisco after an unfortunate incident involving plasma grenades and a very hungry, then very confused and finally very exploded bear.

"We need to get out of here," Buhras said to Malespere one afternoon, "We've been at this place for four years now. We're about ready to snap!" Her face suddenly took on a disgusted expression. "OMIGOD!" She shrieked, "I did NOT just SAY that!"

"You did," Malespere said, giving her a crooked grin. She grabbed him by the collar.

"Four years! Four years of Sectors, and form-ups and inspections and standards and classes! I can't take it any more! AND I STILL HAVE FOUR EXAMS LEFT!"

"I hate this place," Vexnar said, passing by the hall, "I hate it with a burning, bleeding passion." The Andorian cadet and former SNAP-staff looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps I will burn it down when I leave?"

"Hey, we gotta go to school here for two more years," Kumari said, joining the conversation.

"I wouldn't mind if you burnt it down," Veksai called from his room just down the hall, "But could you do it today? With me in it? Otherwise I have to write this Warp Theory exam."

"No, I cannot," Vexnar said, "But if you wish, I can loan you my Andorian Ritual Suicide Handbook,"

"Don't tempt me," Veksai muttered, turning back to his textbook padd.

"There's an actual handbook?" Kumari asked.

"Puny human," Vexnar laughed, "It took you over a week just to memorize the Sectors at the Academy. There are thousands of Andorian suicide rites, tens of thousands of sub-rites and millions of variations!"

"Um. Great. I'm just…gonna go back…to my room….uh…now." Kumari slowly backed away.

"Y'know," Veksai said, poking his head around to her door again, "I'm never thought I'd say this, but I'm really going to miss our senior-classmen when they graduate."

Kumari thought for a moment. Mecablox, their SNAP Team Leader had graduated last year, but he hadn't been around very much during SNAP. He'd all but vanished following SNAP. Buhras, Vexnar, Kethnor and Drain had been around constantly. They'd been with them through SNAP, after SNAP and all through their lower and junior years. Now, the idea that those four cadets that had done so much to introduce them to Academy were leaving was a little sad.

"Yeah," Kumari replied, suddenly feeling pretty down, "Me too,"

May

"Welcome everybody to the first and hopefully annual Antares Sector End-Of-Year BBQ," Sector Leader Ahnk said loudly. The entire Sector had gathered in Scotty's, the lounge/coffee-house that catered largely to the human population. (The Andorians, Klingons and Tellarites often referred to it as the 'Cowardly Human Hide-away') Exams were finished, marks had been posted and preparations for the Graduation Parade were already underway. In less than two weeks the senior-classmen would be off to their first postings, or to extended Fleet training while the lowers, juniors and mids were shuttled off to the USS Richelieu, an Academy Annex or another training vessel for two months of Fleet training. Most of the Antares cadets had already visited the food line and had their plates piled high with hot dogs, spleen pie or gagh.

"Right, let's get to the pipman announcements. First, since I know it's what everybody's dying to hear, I'm going to go ahead and announce the SNAP staff for next year,"

The junior-classmen in the room tensed right up. Bahred, M'kr'gr, Gallium, Kumari, Quarterman and Verone all looked hopeful. Malespere had a small grin on his face, and Veksai just looked grumpy. He'd put in a good bid for Deputy Squad Leader, figuring it was the best shot he had. Still, the competition was tough and the odds weren't good.

"First, as the new Brute Squad Leader, Mr. Lafonge," Ahnk announced. Lafonge, a tall, skinny cadet with sharp features and a heavy colonial accent, stepped to the front of the group as the rest of the cadets applauded.

"Deputy Squad Leader Verone,"

Verone squealed (as Veksai thought 'shit') and hurried to take her place next to Lafonge.

"Team Leader, Brute Squad Team 3, Mr. Veskai,"

"Huh?" Veksai started.

"Get up there!" Fastocheni hissed, giving him a push.

Team Leader? SWEET!

Brute Squad, Team 2, Mr. M'kr'gr.

M'kr'gr jumped forward, shook Lafonge's hand (drawing a bit of blood before he retracted his talons) and took his place in line.

"Brute Squad, Team 1, Mr. Bahred!"

"Go Archie!" Kumari cheered.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ahnk said, "Your SNAP team for next year!"

There was a moment of applause.

"OK, now," Ahnk went on, "We have two appointments to Academy HQ for next year. First, in the Deputy Academy Training Officer position, we have Mr. Malespere,"

She looked around.

"Where'd he go?" she asked.

Malespere had stormed out.

"Uh, and to the position of Fitness Officer, we have Mr. Felps,"

As Ahnk announced that T'Henkie would be succeeding her as Sector Leader, the new SNAP staff shared an uncomfortable look.

"What's with that?" Bahred asked.

"He's upset, what do you think?" Kumari whispered. In the background. Dril had been named the new Sector Training Officer, with Bizkit as his deputy. With Dril standing nearly 7 feet tall and Bizkit barely reaching 5, they were a very odd pairing. As Ahnk continued listing the pipman, she kept shooting nervous glances at the door.

"Should we go talk to him?" Bahred wondered.

"I don't know if he'd like that," Kumari shook her head.

"I think he's back," Veksai pointed. Sure enough, Malespere had re-entered the lounge, though he did not look happy.

"And that rounds out the pipman announcements for next year," Ahnk said finally, "Thank you all so much for a great semester, and best of luck on your summer training,"

"I can't believe it," Veksai said, looking around, "We're actually SNAP staff!"

"Sorta made all the work this year worth it, huh?" Bahred said.

"Yeah,"

Across the room, Malespere had closed in on Ahnk and the two of them now seemed to be involved in a very heated (though very quiet) discussion.

"I think we should go," Veksai swallowed.

"Uh, yeah,"

They left.

Graduation day:

Another year, another graduation.

Once again, the Parade ring was circled by cadets in their maroon jackets. As usual, the graduating class formed a circle around Khitohmer Building, facing out and across the Ring towards the lowers, juniors and mids as they circled the outer rim of the Ring, facing in. Once again, the Commendant, Director of Cadets and even Fleet Admiral Ra'al herself addressed the graduating class, congratulating them on the work they'd done and on what they had now accomplished. That night would be the Graduation Ball, and the next day everybody would disperse to postings, training or even for some time off. The Academy campus would be empty for another summer. The High-Energy Physics labs would be empty, the Experimental Teleportation Platform would be powered down and the beds in all the buildings, from the brand-new Fort Hillier to the ancient Fort Pike, would be empty. Within 48 hours, the Academy would become a ghost town, with only the academic and Fleet staff present to prepare for another year and another new group of students. Already, acceptance letters had been sent out and in a few cases new recruits on more distance worlds had already boarded transports for a three-month trek. (Sometimes, for some people, an Annex just wasn't good enough.)

Soon, the cycle would start again.

End

1 Star Trek/Traks largely glazes over this for expediency sake, but any nerd who's watched The Next Generation knows that the Federation is very, very big.

2 This actually reflects the Canadian system, with one (formerly three) Royal Military College that produces about ¼ of commissioned officers. The rest get their university education at civilian universities. (Civie U) And yes, RMC graduates tend to think they're better than Civie U guys. And, of course, we are. ;)

3 Star Trek II, III and IV

4 Navigational Deflector – A device used to repel space debris away from a ship in flight. Consisting of magnetic fields and a high-energy beam that can be programmed to do just about anything Trek writers need it to do.


	11. Inter-Mission

Copyright 2009

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

3.1 – "Inter Mission"

Earth Orbit:

"Spacedock, this is runabout Rideau. I have a scheduled drop-off for the USS Gagetown. Permission to dock?"

"Runabout Rideau, this is Spacedock Traffic Control. Permission granted, proceed to slip 3-Alpha. Stuck with another load of snot-nosed brats?"

"You know it, Control. Rideau out."

As the small craft, close in size to a 20th-Century bus (but with warp nacelles), eased closer to the massive, mushroom-shaped space station, the cadets inside were too occupied to worry about what their pilot might be thinking of them. The runabout was filled with a mix of Academy cadets from different sectors. Not all cadets from any given Sector were present, as they'd been split up for their training missions, but there were still enough familiar faces around to keep everybody comfortable.

"Wooow," Kumari breathed, staring out the window towards Earth. As always, her eyes were drawn by the shimmering blue oceans, the gleam of white clouds and the lattice of sparkling city lights just barely visible over the terminator.

"Wow is right," Bizkit agreed. She was still looking at the tiny spot on the west coast of North America that they'd just departed. Starfleet Academy, their home for two years now, had vanished from view quickly as the runabout took off from one of the Academy landing fields and made it's way into space. After another year of classes, physical training and studies, it was time for their summer training with the Fleet.

Even those cadets that didn't call Earth home had to take a moment to admire the sheer beauty of the planet. It was, after all, very similar to their own homeworlds. Kodene's planet was a close match, though the Valvattians had evolved in the ocean rather than on land. Gallium's home on Bolarus was a close match for some of Earth's more tropical areas and the planet adopted by M'Kr'gr's people, Paria, wasn't far off either.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Veksai groaned, clutching his stomach.

"I can't believe you joined Starfleet if you don't like heights," Igor said, seated next to him, "Do you know how much time you're gonna spend orbiting planets?"

"A lot," Veksai said, getting up and moving to the side of the runabout that didn't face the planet, "But I'm pretty sure it'll be a lot easier to stay away from the windows." His eyes widened, "On second thought…

"What? What is it? What's going on?" Gallium demanded, trying to lean over the annoyed-looking Veltran Sector cadet seated next to him.

"That's more like it," mid-classmen Dyrob grinned. The short cadet was the same canine race as Drain, but with lighter, nearly blond fur.

On their side of the runabout they could see the towering behemoth of Spacedock. Dozens upon dozens of levels of armoured hull plating, shining observation windows, gleaming sensor and weapons ports. Spacedock had undergone some changes during the Dominion War, but whatever might have been added, it was still Earth's gateway to the stars. As the runabout drew level with the dome-shaped main hanger at the top of the station, a set of runabout-sized doors eased open, allowing access to the interior. A few degrees around the curved outer hull surface, a pair of starship-sized doors were capable of admitting anything up to a Sovereign-class vessel.

All of the cadets in the runabout had at least been in orbit before, and any of them that had come from off-world had passed through Spacedock on their way to the Academy. Few of them however had been in the main hanger, an area that was specifically reserved for Starfleet vessels.

"There's the Enterprise," Gallium said excitedly, pointing as they passed a sleek Sovereign-class ship, "Man, can you imagine if they let us do training missions on her?"

"Using the Enterprise as a training vessel?" Veksai smirked, "What a ridiculous idea,"

"Actually," Dyrob said, "The Constitution-class Enterprise was used as a training ship until it was destroyed in…some crisis or other,"

"Oh," was all Veksai could say. He'd met Dyrob the previous summer, during his training stint aboard Waystation. Dyrob and a handful of other cadets were a year behind in their summer training due to various injuries. In Dyrob's case, his left arm had been merged with a bulkhead during a prank-gone-wrong near the Academy's Experimental Teleportation Platform. Finding it a bit easier to identify with the older cadets, Veksai had become fairly good friends with Dyrob, Spyder, Frervil and the others. After returning to the Academy however, they'd all been running in too many different directions to see each other, other than the occasional encounter at Scotty's.

The cadets continued staring out the windows, passing by the USS Saratoga, the USS Titan and even the USS Aerostar.

"Oh wow," Baxter said, "Lookit that! My cousin's sister's…um, my relative was Captain of the original USS Aerostar! This is the one with the fancy split-up thingy!"

"Multi-vector assault mode," M'Kr'gr said, nearly drooling, "She can split into three independent craft, each capable of mounting a full assault on an enemy target."

"Can you imagine trying to design something like that?" Veksai shook his head, eyes locked on the Prometheus-class Aerostar, "I mean, I've barely gotten past my classes in small-craft computer systems. Something like that…"

"You are a smart human," M'Kr'gr said encouragingly, "One day, when I am a pilot and you are a design engineer, you will build me a ship that splits into at least 10 pieces and can devastate entire worlds."

"Um…thanks?"

"There's home for the next two months," Quarterman suddenly pointed out. Sure enough, the shuttle was approaching an Excelsior-class vessel. Approaching the shuttlebay, they could see 'GAGETOWN' stencilled on the hull, just below the opening shuttlebay doors.

"Oh goody," Bizkit's lips tightened, "Two months of running around, getting screamed at and trying not go get blown up,"

"This is Starfleet, sweetie," an older, female cadet called from up front, "Welcome to your new life,"

"Um…thanks?"

Veksai and Bizkit exchanged a glance, then giggled.

The runabout had barely touched down in the Gagetown's shuttlebay when the hatch hissed open and a voice filtered through.

"EVERYBODY OFF! LET'S GO!"

"Here we go," Kumari sighed, "Honestly, I'm a Princess. I should be giving orders, not taking them!"

"All in good time, Princess," the voice called back, "But until you outrank me, button your lip and GET OUT HERE!"

"Ohhh!" Kumari fumed, grabbing her carry-on and rushing towards the hatch.

As she exited the craft, a stocky Tellarite pointed a scanner at her.

"Kumari, Beta-Shift. Over there." He pointed at the far end of the shuttlebay, where another officer was waiting.

"M'Kr'gr, Gamma-Shift,"

"Veksa, Alpha-Shift,"

"Quarterman, Gamma-shift,"

"Dyrob, Alpha-Shift,"

"Kodene, Gamma-Shift,"

"Verone, Beta Shift,"

"Gallium, Alpha shift,"

"Bizkit, Beta Shift."

As names were called and the newly-arrived cadets divided into three groups, Veksai muttered to Dyrob out of the corner of his mouth.

"Together again, huh?"

"Not just us," Dyrob muttered back as Spyder was assigned to Alpha-Shift. Right behind him was Hopstrap, a male from Altair 6. Veksai and Hopstap had both been sworn into the fleet together at Waystation, and both had returned there for their first bout of summer training.

It was, Veksai mused, amazing how many new connections they were making. At the Academy, during SNAP, it had been far too easy to forget that there was life outside of Brute Squad. After SNAP had ended, they'd started meeting other cadets in their own Sectors, along with their classmates from other Sectors. That first summer away from the Academy, aboard Waystation, the USS Richelieu or wherever had been a big reminder that they weren't just cadets at the Academy, they were now members of the Fleet. If not for their time training aboard Waystation, Veksai wouldn't have become friends with Dyrob or Spyder. Now, he'd probably be bumping into them for the rest of his career.

Oops, somebody was yelling at him.

"Welcome to the USS Gagetown," the stocky Tellarite was shouting, "I am Lieutenant Commander Welbar. Over the next two standard months, you will be completing your Core Requirement And Proficiency Course. Now, on CRAP-"

At least 10 cadets broke out in guffaws, all of them human.

"Why do humans always laugh when I say that?" Kelbar shook his head, "Twenty push-ups, everybody!"

"OK," Welbur continued, once the push-ups were finished, "On CRAP, you're going to be learning standard starship duties. You did some of this last year on Initial Fleet Awareness Training, but now we're building on what I-FAT taught you.

This time it was nearly two dozen cadets of various species that broke out laughing.

"Somebody needs to work on these acronyms," Welbur fumed, after having the cadets complete another twenty push-ups. "Anyway. We're dividing you into three shifts, Alpha, Beta and Gamma. Last year, all you really had to do was sit back and follow orders. This time, you're going to be learning the day-to-day operations of this starship. Your mid-classmen will be taking all the command appointments and each department has an officer to supervise. We've also got several lower-classmen coming in that will be completing their I-FAT aboard the Gagetown at the same time. Stay out of their way, and we'll keep them out of yours. Now, your shift commanders will have your living assignments and your schedules for tomorrow. Mostly briefings. We've got three days to get you up to speed on daily duties and departure routines before the Gagetown leaves Spacedock. Shift commanders, carry on."

"This could be interesting," Gallium whispered, "We, like, actually get to run the ship!"

"No, mid-classmen are running the ship," Dyrob whispered back, "we're just the lowly peons."

"Still, this could be fun!"

None of them had ever considered just how much work was involved in launching a starship. The recruiting videos had made it all seem so simple. A confident captain would give the order to depart, a cool and collected helmsmen would tap at a panel and several million tonns of starship would glide effortlessly out the open space doors. They'd even seen the USS Intrepid take off from the Academy grounds, looking like nothing more than a giant metal bird that had simply decided to fly away.

Now, the cadets found themselves buried in minutia.

"That's a really big warp core," Kumari said, staring through the transparent divider between her console in Main Engineering and the Gagetown's pulsing warp core.

"At least you're doing something interesting," Verone's voice came through Kumari's comm-badge, "They put me in the geology labs for the first few days. BORING!"

"I thought you liked your exo-geology classes," Kumari muttered, trying not to be overheard.

"I liked the classes," Verone replied, "I don't like scrubbing out soil sample bins,"

"HEY! CLOSE THAT COMM-LINE! Pay attention to your prep list," snapped mid-classman Whetink. Kumari didn't know Whetink very well. She just knew that he was going into his senior year at the Academy and that he was current the Acting Chief Engineer. Kumari didn't know anything about the actual officer supervising Whetink, but then she really didn't need to.

"Right, prep list," she gulped, turning her attention back to her panel. Hmm. According to the computer, she needed to verify the magnetic field variance in the core and adjust as needed. Tapping the appropriate panel, she saw that the variance was off by an unacceptable margin. Hmmm. That was just like one of her Warp Propulsion labs. But had she adjusted the field modulation up or down?

Guessing on down, Kumari started making the adjustment. She'd barely started when the core started emitting a loud, squealing sound. Something like a cat in a blender.

Eyes wide, she quickly adjusted the modulation in the other direction, overcompensating and causing the core to shut right down. The room was bathed in darkness for a split second before emergency power kicked in.

There was a collective exclamation from the cadets in the engineering room. Cadet Whetink looked like he was about to pop his top, but the officer in charge quickly came over.

"Next time," he said, "Lower the adjustment multiplier. And good eye…if you hadn't noticed you were going the wrong direction, you could have overloaded the core."

He patted her on the shoulder, then moved on as Whetink started walking them through the core restart sequence. Next, it would be several hours spent running through emergency drills.

"I am so f**ked," Kumari muttered to herself.

After the shift change, Kumari and her Beta-shift teammates retired to their communal quarters on Deck 10. As she fell into a nightmare-filled sleep, M'kr'gr was arriving on the bridge. He wasn't sure what pleased him more: the fact that he had actually been chosen to man a bridge station during the training exercise, or the simple fact that he was standing in the control center of a powerful warship. He watched from the turbolift alcove as mid-classmen (soon to be senior-classmen) tapped at their panels and exchanged routine information. They had the benefit of having already completed at least one training cruise, but here he was, about to take his very first step onto the bridge of a real, live starship.

"Cadet! Get your ass over to the Enviromental Control station and get to work!" snapped the cadet seated in the captain's chair. Cadet Veni had been randomly selected from the mid-classmen to serve as Acting Captain…at least until the training cruise staff decided to replace her.

"Yes ma'am," M'kr'gr replied, slightly abashed.

OK, so Enviromental Control wasn't exactly his first choice of assignments, but still! He was on the bridge! Yes!

"OK people, let's start going over some of our emergency procedures."

Crap!

When departure time finally arrived, the Gagetown was almost humming with excitement. Beta and Gamma shift, while not needed at their stations, could be found crowding around viewports in the lounges and observation deck. Veksai was almost bouncing in his chair as he manned his station in Computer Core Control. Gallium was on station in one of the science departments, waiting to help analyze any incoming sensor readings. Dyrob and Spyder were both on-duty in the Security department; Dyrob as a targeter in the phaser control room and Spyder as a loader in the forward torpedo bay. Despite the low chance that they'd be needed on this cruise, everybody still had to learn how to work with the ships weapons. In fact, the plan for the cruise was to rotate everybody's positions regularly, to ensure that each cadet gained useful experience in all areas of starship operation.

Still, as Cadet Ross stood vigil over the waste tanks and processor, he couldn't help but think that some areas of starship operations needed to be scrapped from the curriculum.

"Helm, take us out, thrusters only," Acting Captain Veni ordered.

"Shouldn't you confirm that Traffic Control is ready to let you go, first?" mused Captain Eric Hartz, the officer responsible for watching over Veni's shoulder.

"Oops. Yes, sir," Veni cringed.

"And maybe we should wait until the Admiral is on the bridge first?"

"Yes sir,"

"ADMIRAL ON THE BRIDGE!"

"At ease," the voice was female, gravelly, and sounded amused. Not the fun 'let's be friends' kind of amused, more like the 'I-just-caught-you-screwing-up' kind of amused.

Veni turned to see Admiral Kathryn Janeway stepping onto the bridge. After her failed bid for the Federation presidency, Janeway was apparently back in the fleet, ready to play the role of babysitter on this particular training cruise.

"Permission to depart, ma'am?" Veni asked.

"Don't ask me, ask Traffic control," Janeway said, "Ahh, this reminds me of the first time we took Voyager out from DS9. Little Harry Kim was practically still a cadet at that point…I thought he was going to wet himself…"

"Just go," Captain Hartz muttered to Veni, "She's going to go on like this for a while."

"Mr. Palmet," Veni said to her helmsan, "Take her out."

Finally, the Gagetown eased out of Spacedock. The big Excelsior-class ship shot to full impulse as soon as it passed lunar orbit, cruised through Earth's solar system and glided off into space.

"Hey, Gallium,"

Gallium turned away from his panel. After inspection the morning following the Gagetown's departure, his staff, Lieutenant Witman, had assigned him to Stellar Cartography for the day.

"I am so unbelievably bored," Gallium said to Veksai as the older and slightly greenish cadet walked up, padd in hand.

"How's that? You've got, like, a 30-meter viewscreen here," Veksai gestured at the holographic display that completely surrounded the central work-area of Stellar Cartography.

"Yeah, and all they let us put on it is star charts," Gallium complained, "It's just like my Stellar Cartography lab, y'know, where we did the galactic shift and gravitational fluctuation corrections? Except now we're doing it over, and over, and over again!"

"Yeah, well, they've got me monitoring the performance levels of the computer core," Veksai said, "I don't actually do anything if they drop, I just tell whoever's in charge and they deal with it. A computer could do my job!"

"Won't it be nice next year when we actually focus on the jobs we're going to be doing?" Gallium mused.

"Yup. By the way, I'm supposed to give you your damage-control team assignment," Veksai handed him a padd.

"Ohh, I'm on Team 2. Goody."

"I've got Team 2, too," Veksai shrugged, "How many damage control drills do you think they'll make us do?"

"Probably a lot," Gallium shrugged.

Veksai was turning to head back to his station when Cadet Cuirass jogged in the door.

"Hey, you guys are smart, maybe you can answer this," the gangly blond cadet said, "I was, like, totally monitoring communication lines on the subspace gizmo-thingy when a call came in for the Admiral."

"I assume somebody told the Admiral," Veksai said flatly, "Cuz if you're asking us what to do about it-"

"No, dude," Cuirass shook his head, "But have either of you heard of Carol Marcus?"

"Sounds familiar," Gallium said as Veksai shook his head, "Can't place it though. Why?"

"Cuz that's who the call was from. I know I've heard that name somewhere though,"

Cuirass was cut off as the all-call sounded. Throughout the ship, Admiral's Janeway's voice crackled.

"All hands, this is the Admiral. As of now, at 0930 hours, I'm assuming command of this vessel. Duty officer, so note in the ship's log. Plot a new course to space laboratory Regula 1."

Cuirass and Veksai exchanged a worried look.

"This is just part of a scenario, right?" Veksai asked.

"I dunno," Cuirass shrugged.

"I didn't hear anything about any scenarios," Gallium said, "I thought we were just going to a few different planets to practice routine stuff."

There was a noticeable sensation as the Gagetown shot into warp speed.

"I better get back to my station," Veksai said, looking worried as he darted back into the corridor.

"Me too," agreed Cuirass.

"There's something really familiar about this," Gallium frowned, turning back to his panel.

Hours later:

Kumari was on-duty down in Main Engineering. After nearly blowing the ship up, the Lieutenant supervising Engineering, Lt. Davidson, had arranged for her to get a bit more practice working with the core before moving her on in the rotation. The Gagetown was cruising along at maximum warp when suddenly her panel indicated that the helm had called for an all-stop. Kumari watched as the computer automatically adjusted the core output and the nacelle timing sequence to slow the ship down. As soon as the core was idling, Cadet Whetink started walking them through a standard diagnostic.

"Bizkit to Kumari,"

"Kumari here," she said quietly, tapping at her comm-badge and trying to be discreet. Bizkit was manning one of the secondary science stations up on the bridge.

"Something's weird up here," Bizkit whispered, "The Admiral's up here now, and we've got another ship approaching."

"Bad guys?" Kumari asked, trying to check the core temperature while she talked, "Probably just a scenario,"

"No, it's a Starfleet ship. Looks like an Akira-class."

"A what?"

"Y'know, one of those things that looks like somebody stepped on it,"

"Oh,"

"Oops, just a sec," Bizkit said quickly. Kumari could here tapping.

"Ummm, no, I don't see anything wrong with their chamber's coil," Kumari heard her say.

"Me neither," another voice, presumably Bizkit's cadet supervisor over at the bridge's main science station.

"Sorry," Bizkit said, "Look, I better go-"

"-locking phasers-" said another voice.

"HOLY SHIT!" Bizkit screamed.

"BIZKIT!" Kumari cried.

There was a deafening crash, then the sound of sizzling energy right before the wall behind Kumari blew out.

All over the Gagetown cadets were crying out in fear or surprise as the ship jolted, tilting to one side and shaking. The lights flickered, then switched over to emergency power. After the first series of jolts there was a moment of relative calm.

Up on the bridge, Bizkit was clinging to her panel.

"Engineering, damage report!" Veni called.

"Damage to the warp core!" Whetink's voice came back, "The Lieutenant…he's...he's dead! A whole bulkhead…it just exploded! I've lost-"

"Get auxiliary power!' Captain Hartz ordered. He closed the channel. "Cadet Veni, you're now my first officer. I want damage and casualty reports-"

"INCOMING!" the cadet at Tactical shouted.

On the main screen, Bizkit could see a ball of light - a torpedo? - coming right at them. When the impact came, it was even bigger than the phaser hits. At his station in Stellar Cartography, in the lower deck of the saucer, Gallium was bounced a good meter out of his chair before crashing down to the deck.

"Bizkit to Kumari!" Bizkit cried, tapping her comm-badge frantically. "Kumari? Kumari?"

"Get on your emergency procedures!" Lieutenant Smith, on of the few officers on the ship ordered.

"But-"

"If we don't get this situation under control, she's not going to be the only one we lose!"

Bizkit clung to her panel, trying to remember just what it was she was supposed to do. How could she do anything?

"Admiral," somebody called from Operations, "The enemy commander is signalling! He wishes to discuss terms of our surrender…"

Janeway paused dramatically.

"Put him on screen,"

There was a flash of static on the main display, then the face and silvery hair of an older human male appeared.

"Zahn," Janeway breathed.

"Team 2, let's go!" snapped mid-classman Dyrob. He was in charge of the repair team for this shift, and it was just his bad luck that the attack had to come right now. He glanced as his padd, waiting for orders to come down from the bridge, "Everybody into your EV suits!"

"This has got to be a simulation, right?" Veksai said for about the 50th time, trying to get his legs into the flimsy-feeling fabric of his environmental suit. He didn't even have time to wave as Verone ran by on her way to join her own repair team, nor did he notice her tapping her comm-badge and calling for Kumari in a voice of near panic.

"It sure doesn't feel like a simulation to me!" Gallium cried.

As soon as they were suited up, Dyrob led them down the corridors, nearly sprinting.

"Team 1 has the hull breach on Deck 10," Dryob read off the padd as they jumped into a turbolift, "2,3 &4 are headed for Main Engineering, 5 is-"

"Do we really need the rehash?" somebody asked.

"Um, I guess not-"

The doors opened and they were again running to engineering.

It was a shambles.

The emergency doors between the main engineering area and the warp core proper had been closed. On the other side, billowing green clouds of coolant gas were swirling like a maelstrom. The cadets that had made it out in time still had respirators strapped to their faces, which were streaked with soot and paled by shock. Whetink was still yelling orders, but he had a near-helpless expression on his face. Seeing the suited team, he pointed towards the core.

"Emergency access is over to the side. Get in there and be ready to follow instructions from…from whichever officer the Admiral can send down to help us."

He paused.

"We…we didn't all make it out in time."

Gallium didn't immediately understand what he meant by that. But next to him, Dyrob was clenching his repair kit.

They eased through an access hatch and into a sort of mini-airlock just off the core chamber. Their suits would protect them from the corrosive gasses, for a while.

When the inner hatch opened, Veksai was sure they'd just stepped into Hell.

Red lights were flashing around the room, illuminating the clouds of coolant as they swirled. The warp core was still pulsing with blue energy, but the output indicators on the core panel were near zero. One side of the room had been reduced to a pile of sparking rubble and one of the plasma transfer conduits leading out of the core had ruptured.

Trying to get a closer look at the rubble, Gallium noticed something strange. Taking a closer look, he realised it was a hand protruding from the rubble. A dainty, brown hand.

A hand wearing Kumari's ring…

"URK!"

The front of Gallium's helmet abruptly changed colour as he vomited.

Up in the saucer, M'kr'gr was in the phaser control room. He was off-shift, but of course during an attack he was required to report to an emergency station. His current station, a life-support monitoring system on Deck-10, had unfortunately been vented to space before he could get there. He'd arrived to find himself facing an emergency forcefield with nothing on the other side but stars. Deciding he could probably find something better to do, he reported to Phaser Control. For whatever reason, the cadets who were supposed to report there in an emergency hadn't arrived yet, so M'kr'gr quickly found himself seated in front of a big, wrap-around screen, ready to co-ordinate the various phaser arrays under his control in order to carry out orders from the bridge.

So far, nothing. The enemy ship hadn't fired again, and no orders to fire back were coming down. Just as well, his phaser banks had zero power; he couldn't fire if he wanted to.

Down in engineering, Dyron, Veksai and another cadet were frantically adjusting plugs, cables and conduits, straining to remember the configurations they'd studied in class. Gallium had been pulled out to change his helmet, after warning everybody else to stay the hell away from that part of engineering.

"NO, Veksai, connect that line to the control input for conduit 3-B!" Dyron snapped.

"Hurry up people!" Whetink called, "I need that online-"

"There!" Veksai said, snapping the connector into place. There was a hum as power surged through the collection of cables.

"Whetink to bridge, you've got battery power!"

M'Kr'gr nearly jumped out of his seat as the phaser power indicator shot up. He had a target indicator hovering just over the enemy ship's aft section, near the warp core. He was just waiting for the bridge to order him to fire.

Why wasn't the bridge giving the order to fire?

Surely they weren't surrendering? M'kr'gr wondered. Sure, the other ship still had full shields, according to his panel, but if the Gagetown could fire off a few phaser shots, maybe a torpedo or two, they could at least try to do some damage on the way out!

On the other hand, the Gagetown was almost entirely manned by cadets. Human cadets, for the large part, who wouldn't be willing to sacrifice their lives if it meant going out in a blaze of glory. Stupid cultural differences.

M'Kr'gr flexed his claws, seriously considering opening fire without authorization from the bridge. Even if they tried to override him, which he doubted they'd be able to do in time, he could probably get a few shots off.

So why not? He reached forward, claw-tip mere millimetres from the button.

"Hold it," Cadet Dril, a soon-to-be senior from Antares Sector and the cadet currently in command of Phaser Control, "If they're waiting, they have a reason. Your job right now is to follow orders, nothing more."

"Why are they not firing now?" M'Kr'gr demanded.

"They're probably talking,"

"About what?"

"It doesn't matter," Dril said, "one day, when you are in command on the bridge, you will expect your people to obey your orders without question. For now, it is what everybody on the bridge is expecting of you,"

M'Kr'gr was about to object again when his console beeped. Somebody on the bridge had just established a phaser lock on the enemy ship. He quickly confirmed it, sent his targeting recommendation back up to the bridge and watched as the phaser lock was adjusted to take his analysis into account. He quickly balanced the power output available to the phaser banks in position to make the shot, then waiting for the firing order.

Suddenly, the enemy's shields dropped.

"FIRE!" Admiral Janeway snapped.

From the back of the bridge, Bizkit watched as, on the main viewscreen, beams of red energy lashed out at the other ship, hitting it dead on. There was an explosion from the rear of the Akira-class ship's roll-bar, then her warp nacelles went dark. Her impulse engines flared to life as the ship banked around the Gagetown and out of sight.

"Ma'am, you did it!" Cadet Veni breathed.

"I did nothing!" Janeway croaked, trying to rub soot out of her uniform, "Except get caught with my bra undone. Somebody quote me some regulations, then we can find out how badly we've been hurt,"

The bridge turbolift hissed open. Bizkit and the rest of the bridge crew turned to see Gallium standing there in an environmental suit, a puke-filled helmet in his hands.

"Oops," he said weakly, "Wrong deck,"

The activity on the Gagetown was frantic.

Captain Hartz and the few officers that were onboard were running from deck to deck, from station to station, trying first to calm down the panicking cadets, then to organize the repair efforts. The mid-classmen, having already completed one training cruise, were at least more familiar with the drills and the procedures that had to be followed, but none of them could remember having encountered anything like the current situation outside of a holodeck.

"We did attack drills as part of our Tactical Procedures class this past year," Dyrob said to Veksai as the two of them carried a piece of rubble away from the warp core, "But those were all in a holodeck. I thought it was pretty realistic, but this…this really doesn't feel like a simulation, if it is one,"

"I honestly don't know," Veksai said, "I mean, I can't believe that anything like this would happen to bunch of cadets like us, right? But yeah, this feels way too real to be a scenario,"

"Bizkit to Veksai,"

"Veksai here,"

"Have you seen Kumari?" Bizkit demanded.

"Uh, not since before the..attack…" Veksai trailed off.

"I was on the comm with her when we got hit," Bizkit said frantically, "And now I can't get a hold of her!"

"Where are you?" Veksai demanded.

"I'm doing first-aid on Deck 7, but I'm done."

"Meet me in Sickbay," Veksai said, helping Dyrob drop the bulkhead chunk they were carrying into a waste reclamator.

"Be quick," Dyron said firmly, "We have a lot of work to do,"

When Veksai arrived at Sickbay, Gallium, Igor, M'Kr'gr, Verone and Bizkit were already there.

"I'm glad you guys are OK," Bizkit said, "Have you seen Kodene?"

"It's in the aft torpedo bay," Igor said, "I was just there, double-checking the torpedoes,"

"I don't see Kumari in here anywhere," Veksai said, checking each of the beds.

"Out of my way!" snapped a dark-haired woman, "We've got people dying here, I can't have you kids getting in my way! Out!"

"But, we're looking for-" Bizkit started.

"If they're not on duty and they're not in here, you'd best stop looking," the woman said. She paused, then gave them a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry. You kids shouldn't be getting exposed to this…not so soon. Get back to your stations. You can look for your friend after this is all over.

Exchanging a worried look, they left.

"This is just cruel," Akavarti Kumari said, standing in Holodeck 1 along with nearly two dozen other cadets and the Gagetown's entire compliment of lower-classmen.

"It's part of the scenario," Captain Hartz said, "You were all killed in the battle. We can't have you running around after your dead bodies have already been found. This is a serious simulation, not the Zombie Wars."

"But did you have to put that holographic body in the rubble pile?" Kumari insisted, "Poor Gallium, he puked right into his helmet!"

"Yes, that was disgusting. But once this is over, he'll have plenty of time for a hot shower," Hartz shrugged, "OK, ladies and gentlemen, I have to get back out there and keep things going. You just sit tight, relax and enjoy the show. He tapped a button and the holodeck abruptly changed into a comfortable lounge filled with comfortable sofas and armchairs, along with dozens of viewscreens displaying different portions of the ship, "I'm locking you in here and cutting off your communications, but somebody will be by to check on you now and then. Have fun!"

He took a deep breath, forced a grim expression onto his face, then marched out of the holodeck.

Kumari slumped into a chair next to Cadet Fortuna, a girl of Italian descent that had recently started dating Bahred.

"This sucks," she muttered.

"Yeah, I know," Fortuna said, "I sorta wish I was still in there, y'know?"

"Why?" Kumari was surprised.

"They're living it," Fortuna said, pointing at a screen that showed a pair of cadets trying to weld a piece of metal over a hull breach, "This is as bad as it gets, and they don't even know that it's not real. Don't you want to know how you'd handle it?"

Kumari considered.

"Maybe…"

Verone and Gallium were working in Impulse Engineering alongside over a dozen other cadets, trying to get auxiliary power up and running before the enemy ship, the Reliant, could return to finish off the Gagetown.

"Cadets, I need you to finish hooking up those anodyne relays!" called out Lt. Cmdr. Welbar, "Not next week, NOW!"

Gallium was frantically ripping the new relays out of their wrappings (why replicate a part in packaging?) and checking their settings as Verone plugged them into the impulse reactor output grid. Nearby, Quarterman was wrapped around a damaged power conduit as s/he tried to gamma-weld a patch into place.

"Last one," Verone said, clicking the relay into place with a snick.

"We're good," Gallium reported, trying to give Welbar a thumbs-up. (Unfortunately, the Bolian boy got a bit confused and nearly jammed his thumb up his nose.)

"Impulse engineering to bridge," Welbar called, "We've restored auxiliary power and impulse drive,"

"Confirmed,"

"Good work, cadets," Welbar said, "now-"

There was a flickering of blue light, then a squeal of surprise from Quarterman as the impulse reactors kicked in with a rumble. Everybody spun, only to see Quarterman's body dissolve as a jet of plasma burst out from the conduit s/he'd been repairing.

Verone screamed while Gallium puked again. Welbar stood there with an expression of shock, then started snapping orders to re-route the plasma flow.

Nobody was moving.

"MOVE IT, OR WE'RE ALL NEXT!" he snarled, slamming a spanner down against a metal support with enough force to create a ringing CLAAANNNGGGG.

Another cadet quickly re-routed power and the jet of plasma dissipated.

"Oh my God!" Verone gasped, "S/he's…s/he's…"

Gallium puked again.

"Report to Deck 10," Welbar ordered, "They're still having trouble with that hull breach,"

The cadets just stared back at him.

"Listen up," Welbar snapped, his snout twitching, "We're in a life-or-death situation here. We've being fired upon, and if we don't get this ship back up and running, FAST, we're all going to be joining Quarterman. Stay busy now, survive the situation, grieve later. GO!"

Slowly, they started moving.

"What the f-"

Kumari was somewhat surprised as Quarterman materialized on the holodeck. Cadets had been popping up here and there, 'killed' in a hull breach, or by 'injuries sustained'. Still, she wasn't expected Quarterman to simply appear in mid-air and drop a good meter to the deck.

"Hi," Kumari gave a little wave.

"KUMARI! You're alive!" Quarterman cried out, rushing forward to give Kumari a hug, "Wait…conduit…power surge… aww SHIT, I'm dead! Is this the Eternal Brothel, or are we on our way to the Plateau of Eternal Chastity?"

"We're not dead," Kumari said, dropping back into her chair. On the display in front of her, Admiral Janeway was ordering the cadet at the helm to proceed to Regula 1 at full impulse.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Quarterman demanded, looking around.

"It's all fake,"

"WHAT?"

"Here, have a beer and relax," said Cuirass, carrying over a tray of mugs, "Wanna count how many people cry when they hear you're dead? So far, Kumari's winning. I think it's cuz she's a girl,"

"That's NOT FUNNY!" Kumari snapped, punching Cuirass in the arm.

"Fake?"

Kumari pointed at a display showing main engineering. In it, Cadet Spyder had just been ordered to re-align the dilithium crystals in the warp core, despite the fact that the radiation levels were lethal. As they watched, a holographic image suddenly appeared between Spyder and Cadet Whetink. To Whetink, it looked like Spyder was trying to open the core access hatch. Kumari and crew, however, could see as Spyder disappeared in a transporter beam.

He rematerialized right behind them, looking around in confusion.

"I KNEW IT!" he loudly declared.

On the screen, Cadet Whetink watched in horror as 'Spyder' collapsed to the deck and stopped moving.

Veksai and Dyrob had lost track of time. The initial attack now felt like it had occurred weeks ago. They simply moved from place to place, completing repair task after repair task as the mid-classmen and officers running the ship tried to keep things together. Veksai recognized the strategy…if they were too busy to think about what was happening, they'd be less likely to freak out, right? Whatever. If that's what they wanted to try, he was happy to follow along. The ranks of the repair teams had thinned as orders started coming down to get more people back at battle-stations. Clearly, somebody upstairs was planning something.

Up on the bridge, M'kr'gr had been assigned to assist at the tactical panel.

"They can still outrun us, and outgun us," the science officer was saying, "But there is the Mutara Nebula at 153 mark 4,"

"Mr. Whetinck, can we make it inside?" Janeway demanded, tapping her comm-badge.

"How the f**k should I know?" Whetinck replied, "the real chief engineer is dead! So's half my team!"

"Work on it," Janeway out,"

"Receiving report from Stellar Cartography," M'kr'gr said. He felt a small amount of relief when he saw Gallium's name attached to the readout, "The Mutara Nebula is a standard nebula, but the static discharges will prevent us from using shields or sensors,"

"Works both ways," Janeway said, not even looking back at M'kr'gr.

"They're firing!"

In the 'neck' connecting the Gagetown's disc-like saucer section to her engineering section, Veksai and Dyrob were trying to fix part of the port torpedo launcher. It was a simple repair, part of the structure had simply collapsed in the pounding the ship had taken earlier and needed to be reinforced. Veksai felt a faint rumble and looked out a nearby window just in time to see a glowing red torpedo flash by, its engine wake making the ship shudder.

"HOLY SHIT!" Veksai shouted, stumbling back and falling.

"That was close," Dyrob said, turning pale.

"Nebula penetration-"

"Nice choice of words,"

"We're entering the nebula in, well, right now,"

The Gagetown shuddered, then the lights dimmed. M'kr'gr's sensor boards flickered out and the main viewscreen broke into static.

"Now what?" Cadet Veni asked.

"Now, we wait," replied Janeway.

"Will you stop staring out that window and help me here?" Dyrob demanded.

"Hold on, I think I see something," Veksai said, squinting, "When did we fly into a giant dust-cloud, by the way?"

"Look, whoever's running things has this planned out. I hope. We just need to…hey, what's that?"

In the distance, obscured by nebular dust, they could just make out the shape of an Akira-class starship.

And it was coming right at them.

"Uh-oh," Veksai said softly.

"EVASIVE STARBOARD!" Janeway screamed, the image of the Reliant barely visible on the main screen. Her phaser banks came to life, slamming into the Gagetown's port side. M'kr'gr clung to his station as the Acting Tactical Officer, Cadet Penter, was thrown against the aft wall of the bridge.

"FIRE!" Janeway shouted.

Penter was still scrambling back to his panel, so M'kr'gr slammed his claw down on the fire control panel. The Gagetown's phasers, this time powered by her impulse reactors instead of batteriess, speared out and impacted the Reliant, right behind her bridge. Both ships broke off, disappearing into the nebular clouds.

"What the-" Veksai exclaimed, materializing in mid-air and falling into a comfortable armchair. The last thing he remembered, the port torpedo bay was exploding around him, the outer wall blowing out in a surge of energy and flames erupting from all sides.

"You're not dead, it's all a simulation, and well, you're technically dead now, but not really," Kumari said, tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. "If you want, there's-URK!"

Veksai had jumped to his feet and engulfed Kumari in a massive bear hug.

"Thanks," Quarterman muttered, looking annoyed.

"Um, ahem," Veksai released Kumari, looking embarrassed, "I just…we…"

There was another shower of transporter sparks and Gallium appeared next to them.

"Hey Kumari," he said calmly, giving her a wave.

"Hey, what?" Veksai was looking at Gallium in a combination of confusion and horror, "Why are you so calm? Did you know-"

"Oh, I didn't know it was fake until right before I 'died'," Gallium said, "The computer reported the Mutara Nebula as being a standard nebula, but I studied it for my Stellar Cartography essay last term. It's actually a proto-matter nebula…some kind of weird technology went haywire, or something. Anyway, I was trying to say something about it when the officer in charge tapped on something and my console exploded. I guess they suspected one of us might catch on,"

"I hate smart people," Quarterman grumbled, sipping more beer.

Veksai was already asleep.

"His pattern suggests…two dimensional thinking," the science officer was saying to Admiral Janeway.

M'kr'gr was still working at the tactical panel. Nearby, Bizkit was trying to see something, anything, in the static-filled sensor displays on her panel. He glanced at the casualty list on one of his displays, dismayed to see that Kodene, Veksai and Verone were all listed as having been killed in the last attack. Gallium had died mere seconds after sending his report on the nebula due to a freak plasma surge in his console. He and Bizkit were the only members of the old Brute Squad still alive on the Gagetown. What would Bahred, Malespere and the others say when they learned that so many of their classmates had been killed on what was supposed to be a harmless training cruise?

Bizkit was saying something to the science officer.

"Some sort of energy readings to the port aft," he reported to Janeway, "Could be impulse drive."

"Z-minutes 10,000 meters. Standby photon torpedoes," Janeway ordered.

Next to him, Penter verified that the starboard launcher was ready to go. At the helm, mid-classman T'Henkie had relieved the former helmsman and was in the process of dropping the ship straight down.

They waited, carefully trying to track whatever the faint reading was.

"Ease us back up."

M'kr'gr stared as the main screen.

"If you see something," Penter said softly, "Take the shot. Don't wait for me,"

"Understood," M'kr'gr muttered back.

Slowly, the display cleared, showing them a clear view of the aft end of the Reliant.

"FIRE!"

Penter stabbed down on the torpedo control button, launching a shining ball of light right at the other ship.

"FIRE!"

M'kr'gr hit the phaser controls, pouring destructive energy into the other ship's port nacelle, shattering the nacelle grill and sending a cloud of plasma into space. Penter launched another torpedo, this one severing the nacelle completely and sending it spinning away from the main body of the ship.

"They're dead in space," the science officer reported.

"Signal the Reliant," Janeway ordered, "Surrender and prepare to be boarded,"

There was a flickering from one of science displays.

"What the hell is that?" Bizkit muttered, staring at the strange energy wave-form forming in front of her. The computer was trying to identify it. Just before it could spit back a solution, Janeway glanced over.

"Oops! Computer, end program!" she called, "You guys don't have the security clearance for that part!"

All over the Gagetown there was a holographic shimmer. Damaged panels vanished, piles of debris disappeared, corpses dissolved and damage read-outs were replaced with reports of normal functioning. Throughout the ship, tired, battle-weary cadets jolted in surprise and wondered: What the f**k?

On the bridge, Bizkit, M'kr'gr and the other cadets looked around in shock. The bridge looked exactly the way it had before the first attack, right down to their position. The Gagetown was still puttering along at impulse power, less than a light year from the Sol system.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Janeway smiled, "We fitted the entire ship with a new holo-emitter system, specifically designed to simulate battle conditions and damage with a degree of realism never before possible."

"This…this was all a test?" Cadet Veni asked, eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline.

"Yes. One you all did very well on,"

"OH THANK GOD!" Veni collapsed in the first officer's chair.

"Then," M'kr'gr looked over to Penter, "we did not just slaughter our enemies in honourable combat?"

"I guess not,"

"That…what is the term? That sucks,"

"Yeah well. At least our friends are still alive, right?"

"Hmmm. Good point."

With the simulation ended, the skeleton crew of commissioned officers and crewmen took over operation of the ship and sent the exhausted cadets to their quarters for mandatory rest.

Lying in his bunk, Veksai found himself unable to sleep. He kept expecting the Gagetown to rock again, the air to fill with the stench of burnt circuitry, or the screams of terrified cadets. In the bunk across from him, Igor was watching a holo-chip on his padd. Dyrob was reading, and Gallium had locked himself in the head for what everybody suspected was a 'personal moment'. Only M'kr'gr had fallen asleep so far.

"Hey," It was Kumari and Verone, "Thought we'd see if you guys were up,"

"Most of us," Kodene said, it's tentacles twined around the bed-rack it typically used.

"Long day, huh?" Verone asked.

"Tell me about it," Veksai said, "That felt like the longest day of my life,"

"Two days, actually. But who's counting?" said Kumari.

"It was a good day," M'kr'gr grunted.

"We thought you were sleeping," Veksai said.

"I was. Until the human whining began,"

"Hey, I'm not totally human here, bud!" Veksai objected. Kodene gave an odd gurgling noise.

"It was a good day," M'kr'gr repeated. We learned today that in a battle, we will conduct ourselves with honour,"

"Yeah, we were also convinced that most of our friends had died," Verone shot back, "That's just…that's just cruel! They could have at least told us it was a test!"

"That would defeat the purpose," M'kr'gr said.

"I don't know about you guys, but it's going to be weeks before I feel comfortable on this ship again," Kumari said, "and my parents are going to be furious!"

"This is Starfleet," Veksai said, "I mean, we're supposed to be exploring new places and doing all that diplomatic and science stuff. Why the huge focus on battle?"

"The galaxy is a dangerous place," M'kr'gr said, "Have you forgotten the Borg? The Dominion?"

"Good point,"

"Besides," M'kr'gr went on, "We have only completed a few days of the course. We have the rest of the summer to train on the boring, weakling aspects of life aboard a starship."

"Goody,"

They were quiet for a moment.

"That stuff they said about the Reliant simulation being a prototype…do you think that means that Malespere, Bahred and them didn't have to do this?" Veksai wondered.

"During the debriefing, the Admiral said that the Gagetown was the only ship to try this test," Igor said.

"Sorry," Veksai shrugged, "I was too busy hating her guts to pay attention."

"They can't do this every year," Verone said, "I mean, people are gonna talk. It won't be a surprise anymore."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Igor said.

"Yeah, how many people do you think ended up traumatized after that little encounter?"

"ME!" Kumari said, raising her hand.

"Welcome to the club,"

They sat in silence again.

"I'm going to bed," Veksai said, "Wake me up when it's time to go back to the Academy."

"Doesn't work that way," Igor said.

"Can't I just pretend? For like five minutes?"

"I don't care," Igor said, "I'm just ready for this day to end."

End.


	12. Year 3 - As the Table Turns

Copyright 2009

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

3.2 – "As the Tables Turn"

"The first thing we want to make clear is that new cadets are NOT chew-toys," Rear Admiral August Amouren, incoming Commandant of Starfleet Academy, said as he addressed the crowd of mid- and senior-classmen crowded in the Khitomer Building auditorium.

Steven Veksai chuckled while next to him M'Kr'gr made a surprised little sound.

"NOT…chew toys…" the reptile muttered as he took notes, "I will never understand human customs,"

"If you really feel the urge for a nibble, I'm sure we can look the other way for five minutes," Archie Bahred whispered from the row behind them.

"You represent the new pip panel of the Academy-" the commandant was going on, "And as such your fellow cadets, especially in those in second year-"

"Junior year, sir," senior-classman Buche, the new Cadet Executive Officer, muttered urgently in his ear.

Amouren covered the microphone for a moment.

"That's just confusing. What's wrong with saying second year?"

"Trademarks, sir. Please just trust me,"

"What about something more interesting, like 'yearling'?"

"Please sir,"

"Fine. Especially those in junior year. Remember, the most important goal while you are here at the Academy is to gain the education that you're going to need for successful duty on a starship…"

As the commandant went on, Veksai took a moment to look around the room. It was almost impossible to believe, but here he was. Part of the new SNAP staff, sitting in a briefing surrounded by pipmen. Even more disturbing, half those pipmen were friends or classmates of his, either from summer training, classes, or because they were in his Sector. Marc Malespere was now the Deputy Cadet Executive Officer. Senior-classmen Dyrob, a good friend of his, was now the Cadet Instruction Officer for Sirius Sector. Hopstrop, a mid-classman with whom he'd been sworn into the Fleet, was sitting a few rows away as SNAP staff for Mutara Sector. And the list went on.

"That's interesting," Lucilee Verone muttered.

"Hmm?" Veksai was brought back to reality as the slightly haughty-looking colonial girl leaned forward in her seat.

"Look at the DirCat," she said, motioning towards Captain Smitty, the current Director of Cadets, "He doesn't look happy,"

"Why would he be?" muttered mid-classman Wayland, an Elaysian cadet with a look of perpetual smugness on his face (and a very high opinion of his own piloting abilities). "His best buddy isn't running the place any more.

One thing about summer training was that it brought together cadets from different Sectors that might not socialize much otherwise. This, of course, led to a rampant rumour exchange. One little tidbit that had been spilled in such a fashion was the theory that the DirKat's friendship with the previous Commandant had landed him his position. Veksai didn't know if it was true or not, but he had to admit that he couldn't recall seeing the DirKat give the old Commandant the same look of disapproval that he was directing at the current Commandant.

"New Commandant, new Academy Chief," Wayland was saying.

"New Quadrant Commander for Gamma Quadrant1," Lucilee added.

"And a new Sector Commander for Antares after first semester," Veksai groaned.

"Lots of changes this year, huh?" Bahred muttered.

"Enough talking in the back there," called out Lieutenant Salen, the (surprise!) new Academy Senior Instruction Officer.

"Ohh, this guy," Bahred sighed, "I remember him from last year. Made life hell for the swim team. Remind me, who's responsible for running SNAP this year?"

"The Academy Senior Instructor usually plays a big role," Wayland muttered.

"I was afraid of that.

Once the briefing had ended the pipmen started dispersing back to their buildings. Bahred and Verone turned down the walkway that would take them to Fort Hillier, the new home of Antares Sector.

"So, how was your summer?" Bahred asked.

"Um…we were attacked by a megalomaniac with aspirations of personal revenge and galactic domination. Kumari, Veksai and I died, then M'Kr'gr helped blow up the enemy ship."

Archie Bahred stared at Lucilee Verone with an expression somewhere between shock and disbelief.

"Then we found out it was all fake," Verone finished sheepishly.

"Man, we just spent two months flying around and learning how to work all those different consoles," Bahred said, amazed, "You guys were actually in a fire-fight?"

"It sure felt like it!" Verone exclaimed, "Stuff was exploding everywhere, people were getting killed, it was nuts!"

"Wow…I wish we could have done something like that," Bahred said, shaking his head.

"Don't be so sure," Verone warned him, thinking of Gallium's face after he'd found Kumari's 'dead' body."

"So…time for SNAP now, huh? You know anything about our lowers yet?"

"Naw, LaFonge is sending me a list soon," Verone replied, unconsciously rubbing the spot on her collar where her new Deputy Squad Leader pips gleamed in the sunlight.

Senior-classman LaFonge was the new Brute Squad Leader. With now-mid-classman Verone as his deputy and Bahred, Veksai and M'Kr'gr as his Team Leaders, the five of them made up the Antares Sector SNAP staff for the new year. Verone found it nearly impossible to believe that she and the Team Leaders were now mid-classmen…it felt like just last week they were stepping onto the Academy grounds as lower-classmen, under the firm grip of Buhras, Vexnar, Kenthor, Drain and Mecablox. Now, her old SNAP staff had graduated and moved on to their new postings in the fleet, leaving Antares Sector feeling strangely empty.

Bahred and Verone sat down on a bench outside of Fort Hillier, looking up at the gleaming new building.

"I'm really happy with the team we've got," Verone said, her colonial accent giving her voice that extra little bit of dignity, "But it's still going to be a tough month,"

"That depends on how you plan it," a voice called.

Verone looked over to see Veksai and M'Kr'gr walking up to the building.

"I have mug-shots," Veksai said, holding up a data chip, "All 16 of our new little lowers. Also some bios. By the way, some of them still haven't figured out how to use a spell-checker,"

"That is not a good sign," M'Kr'gr clarified.

"S'okay," Bahred said, "We've got a whole month to whip them into shape."

M'Kr'gr looked almost gleeful.

"It's an expression," Verone clarified, "No actual whips."

"Oh,"

Things had changed at the Academy over the summer.

Aside from the changes in leadership at the Academy, Antares had finally made the move into Fort Hillier, joining Veltran Sector in the brand, new building. Antares took up the second and third floors, while Veltran took up the fourth and fifth. The first floor of the H-shaped building contained lounges and other amenities, leaving the sixth floor for the lower-classmen of both Sectors.

The SNAP staff, along with Sector Leader T'Henki, Academy Executive Officer Buche and the rest of the pipmen for the semester had returned to the Academy early, intent on making sure everything was up and running when the remainder of the cadets arrived. Verone, Veksai, M'Kr'gr and Bahred had found themselves pulled into a seemingly endless week of meetings, briefings, and informational sessions, half of them focusing on just how SNAP should be run.

Complicating the matter was the fact that the new lower-classmen had already arrived.

Later that day, Verone and Veksai stood in the central stairwell of Fort Hillier looking out the glass wall that looked out over the small plaza in front of the building. There, a pair of mid-classmen from other Sectors were standing in front of a formation of 32 scared looking beings of various races.

"Remember when we first got here?" Veksai said, sounding annoyed, "The first thing we saw was Mecablox, right before he hauled us off to Fort Pike,"

"Yeah, this 'Preperatory Week'2 is bull," Verone agreed, "And we're living in the same hallway as them right until SNAP starts!"

"They already know who we are," Veksai mused, "I don't know what the prep week staff have been telling them, but I had half a dozen of them almost begging to carry my luggage to my room when I arrived here,"

Verone giggled. "They getting the fear of SNAP drilled into them?"

"Apparently,"

Veksai had pulled out a padd and was paging through images.

"There's one of ours," he said, pointing at a slightly heavyset male. Neither of them recognized his species; he looked mostly human, except for a small pair of tusks.

"That's Vosskal," Veksai read out. He pointed at another one, a insectoid being that resembled a cross being a biped and a spider, "Um, it says here we can't pronounce that one's name without mandibles. We're supposed to call him Dav, unless we grow a pair,"

"Right," Verone snorted delicately, "I'm going to grow new body parts just for the sake of a lower-classman? Who else do we have?"

"Pantar," Veksai said, pointing at a Bolian cadet, "Male, 18 years of age. There really isn't much else on here. There's Palamo. Geez, what's a Taparin anyway?"

"According to that thing, Palamo's a Taparin." Verone shrugged.

"I guess that's why he's got three legs and a tail," Veksai mused.

"We're assuming that's a third leg. Maybe it's something far more disturbing," Verone suggested.

Veksai consulted his padd for a moment.

"No, it's definitely a third leg. Taparin reproduce by injecting parasitic genetic material into the bloodstream of a host. See? That's why they've got those sharp fingernails."

"Oh geez," Verone winced, looking at the picture, "Let's make sure we get him a pair of gloves,"

"Noted,"

The prep week staff had apparently finished whatever it was they were doing, as the cadets were dispersing towards the rear stairwell of the building. One of them, Verone noticed, was shouting a lot at his fellow cadets. The sound wasn't carrying through the glass of the stairwell, but they could clearly see him.

"Who's the Klingon?" Verone asked, "Is he ours? Oh, I hope he's ours…he looks like he knows what he's doing!"

"Ummm," Veksai hunted for a bit, "Ah, that's Suhvank. Klingon, obviously. Twenty…um, wow. He's my age."

"Another old man, huh?"

"Yeah, well, he looks like he could kick my ass," Veksai frowned, "And yes, he's assigned to Brute Squad."

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Verone was practically bouncing, "I can hardly wait to get started!"

As the days progressed, the new staff scrambled to get all the pieces put together before the official start of SNAP.

Mostly.

Between SNAP meetings, Bahred was already getting involved in the Academy swim team. M'Kr'gr was hitting the gym with a vengeance and Veksai had two or three different projects on the run.

Living in the same hallway as the lowers was slightly awkward. Lowers were almost always underfoot as Prep Week wound down, and so the Team Leaders took to scowling and walking down the hall as quickly as possible. The lowers scrambled to stay out of the way of the SNAP staff, knowing that in a matter of days these surly looking mid-classmen would be in charge of their lives. One morning, as Veksai was leaving for yet another in the endless round of meetings, one of the soon-to-be-Veltran Sector lowers was sauntering down the hallway. Veksai, in a hurry, found himself growing very irritated as he walked behind the slower cadet. Something in his face must have been broadcasting his annoyance, as another lower suddenly shouted 'Make a hole!" and yanked the offending cadet out of Veksai's way with enough force to slam the boy into the brick wall. It took every ounce of willpower Veksai possessed to hold in his laughter until he was out of earshot.

He couldn't stay annoyed with the boy. In another day or two, he'd be moving much, much faster, whether he liked it or not.

On his way down to the ground floor, he passed by the Antares Sector floor. Senior-classmen T'Henki, the Vulcan Cadet Sector Leader for the new semester, was just stepping into the stairwell.

"Good day, Mr. Veksai," she said politely.

"Hey T'Henki. How's it going?"

With the typical Vulcan arched eyebrow that just screamed 'Your vernacular is foolish, but I will indulge you', she replied, "Quite well. Are you prepared for SNAP?"

"As prepared as we're gonna be," Veksai said, shrugging, "Hey, you did SNAP staff last year. How did you guys balance it out with all your school stuff?"

T'Henki thought for a moment.

"I, of course, had no problems." She said, "However, I did observe that the others became somewhat...attached to our lowers."

"They're a good bunch," Veksai said, "Well, I mean, they're juniors now, which helps. But you know what I mean."

"In any event," T'Henki went on, "The problem was that the staff always wanted to be involved in SNAP. While this had its advantages, it also led to very rapid burn-out."

"Ohhh,"

"I suggest then that when you have time off, you take it," T'Henki said, "Otherwise, you will find yourselves extremely stressed.

"Take time off when needed," Veksai nodded, "Got it."

It was time.

As the majority of the returning cadets were preparing for their last leisurely weekend before the start of classes, the lower-classmen seemed to be surrounded by such a fog of gloom that even the bright, sunny end-of-summer weather couldn't penetrate it. Preparatory week had ended and now the new lower-classmen found themselves marching past the Federation Emblem and onto the Parade Ring. The SNAP staff was nowhere to be seen, with the exception of the Squad Leaders standing next to their respective Sectors. Instead, the junior-, mid- and senior- classmen of the Academy were standing in formation along the inner circumference. They watched coldly as the lowers were marched along the outer circumference, halting when they were in position across from their soon-to-be Sectors.

No sooner had they halted than the Preparatory Week staff marched away, to be replaced with the SNAP Squad Leaders. Senior-classman Lafonge came to a halt directly in front of the new Brute Squad.

"Sector Leaders, carry on!" Cadet Executive Officer Buche called out.

As one, the senior classmen turned away from the lower-classmen and marched off the Parade Ring. Lafonge didn't know if this particular method of starting SNAP had its roots in Earth culture or if it was something added in by the Andorians or Rigillians. Still, by all but abandoning the lower-classmen on the Ring with the squad leaders the other cadets were sending a very clear message:

You aren't one of us.

Yet.

As Lafonge took over the new lowers, the rest of the SNAP staff was in the Brute Squad hallway, doing a bit of redecorating.

"If they keep adding Sectors to this place, we're going to need bigger walls," Verone said, hanging a large poster listing the Sectors of the Academy on the wall between two sets of lower-classmen quarters.

"Not to mention more colours," Veksai agreed, "Look at this: Pleiades Sector. Lower-classmen squad is Harriman Squad and their Sector Colours are puce and goldenrod,"

He turned and gave her an annoyed look.

"How am I supposed to make our lowers memorize this stuff if I can't?"

"Come now, you did it when you were a lower. You can do it now," M'kr'gr said.

"They've added like five new Sectors since then!"

"Shut up and hang this listing of Sector Leaders,"

Bahred looked at the poster as Veksai hung it, looking at the names and mug-shots of the various Sector Leaders.

"Well, they'll memorize T'Henki easily enough," he said, "But can we really expect them to memorize names that can't be pronounced with humanoid mouths?"

"Sure we can. Besides, that spider-looking boy can handle anything that needs mandibles,"

"Yeah, but you need an exoskeleton and rasped limbs to pronounce the name of the Demetios Sector Leader."

"Then they will have the opportunity to earn plenty of push-ups, won't they?" M'kr'gr said, looking pleased.

"Ohhh…" Verone sighed, "It's almost time to be the bad guys. I don't know if I can be a bad guy. Well, girl. But you know what I mean."

"Just think of things that make you angry," Veksai said, "Like milk. Or kittens,"

M'kr'gr growled and bared his teeth.

"Kittens?" Verone looked at Veksai like he was crazy.

"Yes," Veksai said, perfectly straight-faced, "Kittens with sharp spikes,"3

"You're weird."

"I am. And you're right, by the way," Veksai agreed, "We've totally got to become the bad guys. And with less giggling than Buhras.

"LaFonge to Verone," Verone's comm-badge chirped, "I am ready for you guys now,"

Verone looked around.

"Game time, boys!"

Veksai, Verone, M'kr'gr and Bahred walked around Fort Hillier until they found Brute Squad. LaFonge had the lowers standing rigidly at attention, facing the building. The Team Leaders quietly took up position behind the squad. All 16 cadets were either sweating or doing their species equivalent. LaFonge paced next to the squad, scowling.

"Ready to look bad-ass?" Bahred muttered quietly.

"Brute Squad, about TURN!" LaFonge called out.

The lowers turned clumsily, suddenly finding themselves face to face with the mid-classmen. M'kr'gr bared his fangs slightly, causing at least 4 of the lowers to cringe back.

"Let me introduce your SNAP staff," LaFonge said loudly. He had a habit of turning off his Universal Translater and speaking in rough English, which usually made him sound more aggressive than he really was, "Team 3, you are with mid-classman Veksai,"

"SIR!" Veksai shouted, coming to attention, "Cadet Veksai, Alpha, 3294-758-434, Antares Sector, Brute Squad, Team 3 Leader, reporting, SIR!"

"Team 2, mid-classman M'kr'gr,"

"Cadet M'kr'gr, Epsilon, 293-021-294, Antares Sector, Brute Squad, Team 2 Leader, reporting, SIR!" M'kr gr snarled.

As Bahred and Verone were introduced, Veksai and M'kr'gr each watched their teams carefully. In Team Three, Veksai couldn't help but notice that Dav, the insectoid male, was cringing more than anybody, the wobbly antennae sprouting from his head curling back in what really looked like terror. Lekitte, a Caithan4 cadet in the rear row looked uncomfortable, but there was a certain…something in her expression that was bothering him. Boredom? No. He'd figure it out later. There was also Zett, a de-assimilated Borg. Veksai could only see a few signs that the youth had been assimilated and later freed from the Collective; a few plugs on his arms and a strange metal shape on one side of his skull. Vosskal was scratching at one of his tusks when he noticed Veksai giving him a dark look. He jerked the offending arm back down. Mitchel, the final member of Team 3, was working hard to keep his expression completely flat.

While Veksai was eyeing his team, M'kr'gr considered his own. Cadets Octavia, Tik, Palamo, Lucy and Suhvank were standing carefully at attention. He was slightly surprised to see that Lucy was in fact male. He didn't know what to make of the tiny Octavia, but he was pleased to see a look of defiant anger in Suhvank's eyes. (And relieved to see that Palamo's parasite-injecting fingernails had been covered with sturdy-looking gloves.) What he couldn't figure out was why one of his team members, Ves 23, was in a wheelchair and missing an entire leg.

The final team, Bahred's team, consisted of cadets Kansel, Pantar, Lathe, Simth and Lempt. Pantar almost looked like a carbon-copy of Gallium, although to other Bolians the two probably looked very different. Kansel, Lathe and Simth didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary, but Lempt's firely red hair looked like it could be a problem. Mostly because it was, literally, on fire. At least now the SNAP staff understood why the Prep week staff had insisted on fireproof bedding for her room.

Once the SNAP staff had been introduced, LaFonge stepped in front of the Squad.

"Get up by your rooms," he said, "MOVE!"

The lowers bolted.

"Man," Bahred said as they quickly moved up the stairs to their floor, 'We're really back in Brute Squad again, hey?"

"Yeah," Veksai started, "I haven't been in Brute Squad since I was a lower. Wow."

"Listen," LaFonge said, "I spoke to T'Henkie the other day. She's convinced we know what we're doing, and so she and Lieutenant Wellington are going to be leaving everything to us. You know what's expected, and what you can and can't do. She's not worried. Neither am I,"

"Good to know," Veksai said. They'd reached the door to the Brute Squad hallway. Through the window, they could see the lowers lined up next to their rooms.

"Let's do this,"

"The next few weeks," LaFonge was saying, "Are going to be hard. We are going to teach you what you need to be a cadet here. We…."

And so on, and so forth. As he delivered his speech to the lowers, the Team Leaders started pacing up and down the hall, eyeing each lower with a critical eye.

"So, we need to know that you actually want to be here. Because if you don't you're wasting our time." LaFonge finished, then nodded at Veksai.

"Get your stuff out of your rooms," Veksai ordered, "All of it. Pack it up, get it into the hallways. You have five minutes."

The lowers looked at him in confusion.

"MOVE!" Veksai screamed.

It was immediate pandemonium. Each lower bolted to their rooms and starting grabbing everything in sight. Dav and Vosskal, his roommate, started yanking uniforms out of the closets and stuffing them into bags. Lekkitte was scambling to pull issued equipment out of a drawer while Lempt, in the process of pulling underwear and socks out of another drawer accidentally set a bra on fire.

"YOU'VE GOTTA MOVE FASTER THAN THAT, BRUTE SQUAD!" Bahrad shouted.

All five SNAP staff members kept glancing at their wrist chronos. The instant the five minutes had counted down, M'kr'gr bared his fangs and roared.

"YOU ARE LATE!"

"IN THE HALLS! NOW!" Verone shouted.

The hallway was a shambles. Bits and pieces of uniforms were scattered everywhere. Half-stuffed luggage was still open and some cloths had just been tossed on top of bags rather than inside.

"Here you go," Veksai said, gesturing at the mess, "Your stuff is out of your rooms. If you don't want to be here, pick it up and get out. If this isn't what you want to be doing, leave."

He waited a moment.

"Who wants to be here?" LaFonge abruptly shouted.

"I DO, MR. LAFONGE!"

"Good," LaFonge nodded. He looked at his watch, "You have 10 minutes to be ready for inspection."

Bahred noticed a look of panic on the lowers closest to him.

"MOVE!"

The next morning, the entire SNAP staff was up and waiting in the hall before 0600h. The previous night had been a marathon of inspections, push-ups and shouting. Down the hall, in the other side of the H shaped building, they had heard Veltran Sector's lower-classman squad receiving the same treatment. Now, it was time for Brute Squad's first morning as official Academy lower-classmen.

"So tomorrow it's going to be Veksai and I with them all day," Verone said quietly, "Then Bahred and M'kr'gr, you have them the next day. The Veksai and I again Monday."

"Sounds good," Bahred agreed.

"Almost time," Lafonge said, looking at his chrono.

"Ohhh, I wanna do it!" Veksai said gleefully, grabbing a small music player and plugging it into a large sound system they'd setup in the hallway. He plugged the device in, then paused.

"I don't know if I can do it," he said.

"Just press the stupid 'play' button," M'kr'gr growled.

"But these kids are gonna be totally scarred!" Veksai grinned, "I mean, were YOU able to hear this song without wanting to bolt for a good year after SNAP ended?"

"No, but it's tradition," Verone said, "Now just play the song!"

"I'm bad," Veksai muttered to himself as he pressed 'play', "I'm a bad, bad man..."

'ooooooooooooom Do'!  
paaaaarHaaaaaaaa' ech maaS!  
SoooooooooooooH choooooooH laaaaaaH!

All five members of the SNAP staff couldn't help but wince as the Klingon rendition of O'Fortuna blasted into the hallway. They quickly started moving up and down the hall, banging on doors and shouting.

"EVERYBODY UP! GET INTO WORKOUT GEAR!" Bahred shouted.

"OUT OF BED!" cried M'kr'gr.

And so on, and so forth. I mean, really. I did four stories on this stuff for year one, you don't really need yet another rehash of everything they're going to make the lower-classmen do, do you? No, I didn't really think so.

In any event, after an hour of running and circuit training, Verone gave the lowers 10 minutes to shower. 15 minutes (and a lot of yelling about being late) later, they were being marched to breakfast.

After the lowers had all arrived at the table, Verone gave them permission to start eating. The staff moved off to a nearby table where they could keep an eye on the lowers without being overheard.

"That," M'kr'gr said, "Was pathetic,"

"The workout?" Bahred asked.

"If you call THAT a workout," M'kr'gr nearly spat, "A diseased snail could run faster than that,"

"We can't just leave the slower ones completely behind," Verone pointed out.

"Besides, it's the first day," Veksai added.

"Hmmm." Verone sighed.

All around them, lower-classman squads and their staffs were eating. Every few minutes another lower-classman 'Squad Senior' would approach their staff, come to attention and loudly report themselves and request permission to eat. In any other school dining hall, or any public place for that matter, such a thing would be highly distracting, even annoying. At the Academy, it was a sign that the new school year was underway. As lowers marched into the dining hall, those junior-classmen present would rubberneck, checking out the new recruits. The mid and senior-classmem, having their own dining hall, weren't present.

"So what's on the schedule today?" Veksai asked.

"Hmmm...Saturday," Verone pulled out a padd, "Sports this afternoon, briefings all morning, then we've got them in the evening. Classes don't start until Tuesday, as you already know, so we've got them pretty much full time until then."

"Sounds like we have our work cut out for us."

The rest of the day went by quickly, and for Veksai and Verone Sunday went by uneventfully as well. Monday, however, was a different story.

"I can't believe how much energy these guys take!" Veksai gasped, plopping down on his chair. The lowers were polishing their footwear under Verone's supervision, giving him a half-hour or so to escape.

"You guys are only on, like, the third day," Igor, his roommate, pointed out.

"I know!" Veksai said, "I'll be glad when classes start, so at least we don't have to watch them the entire day! Briefings, and trips to supply, and more briefings, and class enrolments, and..." he frowned, "Do you have any idea how much energy it takes, being the bad guy?"

"The bad guy?"

"All the shouting, the yelling, the discipline...and they're terrified of us already! The Prep-Week staff saw to that! The insect kid, Dav, I swear he nearly fainted when I told him his uniform wasn't up to par this morning! And M'gr'kr was ready to kill the lot of them the other day!"

"Why?"

"He caught Zett and Mitchel practicing push-ups during their free period," Veksai explained.

"So?"

"So, M'kr'gr had run their PT session that morning! He took it as a personal insult that they still had enough energy to do more push-ups later in the day!"

"I'm glad I don't have to worry about any of that stuff," Igor shrugged, turning back to his monitor.

"Yeah, well. I'm sure it'll be worth it," Veksai hoped. He looked at his chrono, then sighed.

"I've got to inspect them again in 3 minutes. See ya."

Veksai straightened up, double-checked his uniform in the mirror, forced a grim expression onto his face and stepped out into the hall. He had to admit, the lowers did seem to be learning. They were scrambling about, making sure that every item in their rooms was 'just so'. Of course, it wouldn't be good enough. That was the secret of SNAP...it didn't matter how well they did, it wasn't going to be good enough. At least, not until the third or forth week.

That's not to say that the SNAP staff invented problems with the lower-classmen rooms, or that they went out of their way to sabotage their lowers. The truth was, there was always something that could be done better. Or, most of the time, dumb mistakes that had to be corrected.

Case in point...

As the seconds remaining counted down, the Brute Squad lowers scrambled to stand at attention (or their species equivalent) next to their rooms. Veksai and Verone said nothing, merely pacing up and down the corridor. Veksai noticed that Dav was still trembling every time he walked by.

"Time's up!" Verone shouted, "Why are you still moving?"

She marched right towards the room that Suhvank and Kansel shared. Suhvank immediately gave the Klingon salute and shouted: "Cadet Suhvank, 874-321-321, Antares Sector, Brute Squad, Team Two, reporting Ms. Verone!"

Veksai stopped in front of Vosskal, who reported somewhat less enthusiastically. After looking over the cadet's uniform (which was wrinkled) he stepped into the room he shared with Dav. Something was...wrong. Vosskal's bed was made, though not that well, and his text-padds were neatly arranged on his desk. His uniforms hung neatly in the closet, On the other side of the room, the strange net that Dav used as a bed matched the diagram Veksai had studied. But something was...off.

Veksai sniffed the air carefully.

"Ms. Verone," he said, carefully keeping his voice formal in front of the lowers, "Would you please join me?"

"Of course, Mr. Veksai," she answered, using the exact same tone.

"Something's off in here," he said quietly, just loud enough for Dav and Vosskal to know that he was saying something about their room.

Verone stood for a moment, then sniffed the air. Her nose wrinkled.

"I thought so," Veksai said.

They quickly started looking through drawers and cabinets. Finally, under the small sink in the corner of the room, they hit the smelly jackpot.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" Veksai bellowed, causing half the lower classmen to jump slightly, "VOSSKAL! DAV! GET IN HERE!"

"That's DISGUSTING!" Verone snapped, storming out of the room and resuming her own inspections.

Veksai pointed under the sink, where a disgusting mess of sweaty laundry along with what looked like strands of webbing was in the process of congealing into a stinky blob.

"You call that hygienic?" Veksai demanded, his face starting to turn red.

Dav clenched its mandibles, trying hard not to chitter as the Team Leader proceeded to angrily blow his top.

As the first week drew to a close and the second week began, the SNAP staff fell into a routine. Verone's wizardry with the time-table along with T'Henki's warning about getting out now and then had, so far, allowed them get through SNAP with less trouble than they had expected.

That should have been the first warning that everything was going to go to shit.

"They're getting better, at least," Veksai commented as the SNAP staff, minus LaFonge, sat at breakfast.

"They are," Bahred nodded, "A lot,"

"Hopefully they do well today," Verone said, "Academy Fitness Day,"

"Yeah," Veksai sighed, "I'm SOO looking forward to the race around the Academy perimeter."

"5k run buddy!" Bahred said happily, "That's nothing! We can do that in our sleep!"

"Some of us aren't as young as we used to be," Veksai grumbled, "And some of us aren't on the Academy Running Team either,"

"It'll be fun!" Bahred insisted.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Veksai agreed. He looked at his watch. "It's almost time. Can I bang the cup this time?"

"Go for it, dude,"

"Does enjoying this part make me evil?" Veksai joked as he grabbed one of his empty glasses. He banged it sharply against the table, electing a loud CRACK! as the nearly indestructible polymer glass struck wood.

The effect was immediate. Every lower-classman in the dining hall shot up, their eyes (or other sense organs) darting around the cavernous room to see who had made the noise. When they saw Bahred, Veksai, Verone and M'Kr'gr were standing, most of them returned to their meals. The Brute Squad cadets, however, jumped to their feet and started rushing to the tray return and matter reclamators.

"I'm SO turning to the Dark Side," Veksai giggled.

M'Kr'gr just grunted. Veksai realized that the reptile really didn't look very good. They'd all known that he'd been feeling off the last couple of days, but being the macho type he was, he hadn't drawn any attention to it.

"Hey, are you OK?" Veksai asked, the grin wiped off his face.

"I am in excruciating pain," M'Kr'gr admitted, very quietly.

"Shit. C'mon, we'll let Verone and Bahred handle the kids. You need to have somebody look at that!"

"The Academy infirmary is closed for the weekend," M'Kr'gr reminded him.

"So what? I'll call us a transporter over to one of the city hospitals. No big deal."

"It is nothing," M'Kr'gr said firmly, "I will take my shuttle over myself and have it checked out."

"Bullshit," Veksai said firmly, "I'll fly you over. You're not piloting anything in this kind of shape.

After several minutes of bickering, M'Kr'gr finally agreed. It was a quick flight over to Mercy Hospital, and a mere half-hour before the doctor on duty was able to examine him.

And another half-hour of Veksai waiting in the…well, in the waiting room.

And another half-hour.

And another.

Finanlly, Veksai was called in by the nurse.

"It doesn't usually take this long," the nurse said as she led him out of the waiting area and into the hospital proper, "But your friend has a very unusual physiology, and it took some time to contact somebody on his home world,"

"Oh," was all Veksai could say.

After a moment, she led him into a small hospital room. Veksai's jaw dropped.

M'Kr'gr was stretched out on a bio-bed, his tail protruding through a strategically-placed hole. The reptile cadet was dressed in a blue hospital smock and had a number of sensory and drug-delivery devices connected to him.

Veksai had seen sick people in the hospital before, been one himself on a few occasions, so he figured he was pretty prepared for whatever he was going to see. What he wasn't prepared for was just how…how…weak his friend looked. M'kr'gr was a big guy, and serious dedication to his gym schedule had been making him bigger. On top of that, the reptilian cadet always carried himself with an aggressive, hunter-type air. Now, seeing the same being collapsed on a bio-bed, barely able to move was like a slap in the face.

"I will need you to take my shuttle and my personal effects back to the Academy," M'kr'gr said stiffly.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Are you OK?" Veksai asked, rather dumbly.

"It is…appendicitis," M'kr'gr said.

"Oh," Veksai breathed a sigh of relief, "That's it? Thank God! The thing must have already burst though, you look pretty rough. They'll probably have it out in another five minutes, I can wait around for you,"

"No, you can't," the nurse cut in.

"C'mon…appendicitis?"

"It's far more serious in his species," she said primly.

"What do you mean?'

M'kr'gr gasped in pain, and the nurse pointed at his abdomen. Veksai jumped as he realized that something was moving /under/ M'kr'gr's scaled hide.

"HOLY CRAP!"

"It's already tearing up his insides," the nurse said, "Another few hours, and it'll grow it's own claws and rip it's way out,

Veksai turned even greener than usual.

"They why haven't they taken it out?"

"Well, the doctor's never done a Parian appendectomy. Your friend is fine for a while as long as he rests. Gives the doctor time to practice a few times in the holo-simulator." She looked at a clock, "In any event, you need to leave now. We'll handle it."

Veksai nodded.

"Veksai," M'kr'gr called quietly.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Do not tell the lowers," he said firmly, "I don't want them to think of me like this,"

Veksai nodded.

M'kr'gr, as it turned out, was declared 'off-duty' for over a week. The lowers, of course, asked questions, which the SNAP staff tried to deflect as much as they could, but they'd lost one quarter of their manpower. More than a quarter, considering M'kr'gr's dedication to his team.

"Let me know if you need me, I'll come in extra," LaFonge said. He was the Squad Leader after all, but he'd left most of the day-to-day running of SNAP to Verone and the Team Leaders. T'Henki had also stopped by, promising that the Antares Sector pipmen were ready and willing to help out as needed.

"I'm going to get Gallium to help with PT tomorrow morning," Verone said at the nightly SNAP staff meeting, "But I want one of us with the lowers at all times,"

"I can't do PT tomorrow or Thursday," Bahred said, "I have running team practice. Oh, and swimming is Wednesday evenings. And we have a meet this weekend,

Veksai shot Bahred a dirty look. `

"No problem," Verone said, not noticing, "Veksai and I can handle those days. We'll put you…Wednesday morning, and all day Friday."

"K,"

They were quiet for a moment.

"The extraction went just fine," Verone said quietly, "He's recovering well. Malespere went to see him today."

"Good," Bahred said.

"He's going to be on limited duties for several weeks though,"

"No biggie," Veksai said, "We'll handle the PT stuff, he can take some evening shifts."

"He won't like that," Bahred warned.

"He'd like it even less if they decided to replace him," Verone said sharply.

None of them liked that idea.

"Keep those arms high! Dav, stop slouching!" Verone snapped, walking briskly next to Brute Squad as they marched to dinner. The last few days had been relatively uneventful. The lower classmen were slowly getting better, with inspections, uniform standard and overall behaviour showing something of an improvement. SNAP had been running for a couple of weeks, long enough for them to start getting acclimatized to the Academy.

Start.

"Eyes forward!" Bahred added, "Lekitte, stop looking around!"

It was Ves-23 who heard the sound first. It had only taken a quick glance at her file for the SNAP staff to realize she was a member of an obscure, little-know cyborg race, with a number of implants in various places. She'd been waiting for a replacement leg for nearly 3 weeks, after her old one was mistaken for Borg technology and vaporized.

Anyway, she heard the sound of footfalls first. Many footfalls.

"PHSAAAAZZZZIXXXXNIH"

The entire squad flinched as they were suddenly overtaken by a horde of rampaging blue bodies. The snarling aliens circled the squad like wolves circling an injured moose, snapping and hissing.

"Hi, L'hasha," Verone waved.

"I am L'hasha of the 4th Hive, Warrior Princess of Andor!" one of the Andorians shouted, her leather and spike outfit barely concealing her many appealing attributes, "Tremble in fear before the unholy might of my wrath!"

Verone looked back at Brute Squad. Every cadet, with the exception of Suhvank, was now cowering on the ground. The Klingon cadet was snarling right back at the Andorians, hands up in a defensive stance.

"I think we've got the trembling covered," Bahred said dryly.

"Your lowers are pathetic," L'hasha smirked, "As they should be! VAAASHNIXX!"

Letting out a war cry, she spun and sent a bladed morning-star like weapon zipping past Suhvank's head. It buried itself in a nearby wall, along with nearly a dozen others. The Andorians ran off, whooping and shouting.

"And that," Verone said, "Is the Andorian Chess Club. They meet once a week. Let's go people, time for supper!'

Later that evening, the staff had gathered in Verone's room.

"No shit!" she was telling Veksai, "It was awesome! Dav was curled into such a tight little ball we had to roll him the rest of the way to the dining hall!"

"Do you remember when the Andorians pulled that last year?" Veksai laughed, "I think B'kar almost spent the night in that tree when they couldn't talk him down!"

"Andorians are harmless," Bahred shook his head, "At least, they are if you're on their side. The lowers need to learn how to deal with other cultures."

"Yeah, we got that, thanks."

There was a beep from Verone's computer panel. She turned, paused, re-read the message, then frowned.

"What the f**k?"

MESSAGE:

From: Chief Buzner, Chief of Cadets

To: All Academy Cadets

Subject: Cultural Displays

Today's behaviour by the Andorian Chess Club was dangerous and unacceptable. Going forward, in the best interest of the Academy, no cultural events will be tolerated on campus.

Grow the hell up, people!

MESSAGE ENDS

The next morning wasn't pretty.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" LaFonge demanded, "The Andorians didn't hurt anybody!"

"Complete load!" Bahred agreed, "I mean, I know the Andorian Chess Club is fairly new, but the Bolians have been streaking around campus for the past 50 years and nobody said anything about that!"

"Or the Vulcans-"

"Silence, please," Sector Leader T'Henki said calmly, "I understand your concerns. But he is the senior enlisted member at the campus. His duty is to install discipline, under the guidance of the DirCat."

"Yeah, install discipline in the enlisted crewman!" Verone objected.

"Need I remind you that in the grand scheme of thing, an enlisted crewman outranks a cadet?" T'Henki said.

It was a vicious circle, one that had existed as long as the entire concept of officers and non-commissioned members had been around. A Chief or Petty Officer would find themselves under the command of a brand new Ensign or Lieutenant. Usually one that hated Chiefs and POs. Angry and hating officers, that Chief would inevitably be posted to a training center and be given the opportunity to make life hell for a new batch of cadets, who would become officers that hated chiefs, thus continuing the never-ended cycle.

"Unless he is overruled, we must submit to his authority," T'Henki said.

There was grumbling, but really, there wasn't anything anybody could do.

MESSAGE:

From: Senior Classman Buche, Academy Cadet Executive Officer

To: All Academy Cadets

Subject: Re: Cultural Displays

Please note that in accordance with Starfleet Regulation 3927.187 regarding rights and freedoms of members, and with the authorization of the DirCat and the Commandant, all cultural events and displays are reinstated.

Please join us all in exposing all Academy cadets to the many cultures and races they will be expected to work with during their careers.

MESSAGE ENDS

"Ok then, that settles that," Veksai said, reading over Verone's shoulder.

"I guess," she shrugged.

Somehow, she didn't think things would be cleared up so easily.

"Cadet Vosskal, Sierra-five-six-"

"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE!"

Vosskal flinched back from Bahred, cut off halfway through requesting permission to eat. Brute Squad and four other lower-classmen flights were standing around their tables, waiting for every member to be present before requesting permission from their respective staffs to sit and eat. But Chief Buzner was now storming through the dining hall to the lower-classmen section, fire in his eyes.

"SIT!" he snapped at the lowers, "EAT!" He turned his glare to the SNAP staff.

"All of you, outside!"

Uneasily, they followed.

"This is absolutely unacceptable!" he snarled, once everybody was outside, "Making cadets wait to eat? What possessed you to do something stupid like this?"

Nobody spoke. Then, one of the Mutara Sector staff raised his hand.

"Chief, it's been like this for years. It's sort of a tradition,"

There was rumbling agreement.

"Bull-shit!" Buzner snapped, shaking his swagger-stick in the cadet's direction, "This isn't a tradition! This is just idiocy!"

He turned to address the full gathering.

"I DO NOT WANT TO SEE ANOTHER LOWER-CLASSMAN ASKING PERMISSION TO EAT IN THIS DINING HALL! IS THAT CLEAR?"

"Clear, Chief," the staff grumbled.

MESSAGE:

From: Senior Classman Buche, Academy Cadet Executive Officer

To: All Academy Cadets

Subject: Re: Dining Hall Protocols

Please note that in accordance with Academy Regulations pertaining to the conduct of the Starfleet New Arrivals Program (SNAP), all lower-classmen are required to eat as a squad, and may do so only after receiving permission from their respective staffs.

SNAP staff are reminded that permission will always be given, provided all squad members are present. Adequate time to eat must be given.

MESSAGE ENDS

Two days later, Veksai, Bahred and Verone were inspecting the lowers following afternoon sports. M'kr'gr was expected back any day, and all were looking forward to the extra help.

"Unacceptable!" Veksai snapped, flipping the mattress on Vosskal's bed and the strange arrangement of hooks and silk threads on Dav's, "Did you two even MAKE your beds, or just roll around on them?"

"We made them, Mr. Veksai!" Vosskal cried. Dav just flinched. It would be a few more days until Veksai got around to reading the cultural report on Dav. Once he did, he'd realize that Dav's insectoid race was heavily cannibalistic. In Dav's eyes, Veksai was his superior officer, and was thus entitled to dismember and eat him at the slightest sign of defiance.

"Doesn't look like it," Veksai said angrily, "And WHAT is that SMELL?"

Dav shrunk away.

"This room is a sty!" Bahred was shouted from further down the hall, flipping another bed.

And so on. Finally…

"OK, Brute Squad," Verone shouted, "We're not impressed! You've got 10 minutes to clean this up, back to standard, or it's going to be a very long night!"

The lowers began scrambling.

The staff, as had become habit, simply walked up and down the corridor, making their presence known. Everything seemed to be going well. Beds were being made, shelves were being arranged, Vosskal was helping Ves-23 and Octavia with a closet standard.

Waaaait a minute.

Veksai frowned. Vosskal never had time to help anybody. It took the slightly walrus-like cadet every minute he had to get his own room in order, and Veksai had personally flipped his bed. What the heck?

Walking back to Vosskal and Dav's room, Veksai found the door closed and Dav standing next to it.

"What's going on, Mr. Dav?" he asked.

"F-F-Finished, Mr. Veksai," Dav rasped.

"Really? Open the door."

He did.

The room was a disaster. The mattress and the hook thingy were back in place, but everything else had just been tossed on top.

Veksai started turning green.

A floor down, T'Henki was seated in a Vulcan meditation pose.

"Foundation. Structure. Logic. Control. Every structure requires a foundation -"

Faintly, she could hear shouting from the floor above.

"What the hell were you two thinking? That you could just lie to our faces, and that we wouldn't notice?"

"Structure is necessary for logic," she went on, trying to ignore the shouting.

"And you expect to be OFFICERS? You expect LEAD PEOPLE?"

"Logic is the essence of control," T'Henki sighed, "I am in control,"

Her door swished open and Academy Chief Buzner and Quardrant Chief Heskpat walked in.

"Walkthrough inspection," Buzner said loudly. He looked at T'Henki, seated on the floor, facing a candle and wearing a light, nearly see-through Vulcan meditation shift.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, cadet?" Heskpat demanded, "Open flame in quarters?"

"And get some decent cloths on!" Buzner demanded.

"Chiefs, this is an invasion of privacy," T'Henki said calmly, "I am behaving fully within my rights,"

"We'll decide that," Buzner said, looking around the room, checking the bed and sliding open a closet, "Why are there more robes in here?"

"Mid and Senior classmen standards permit-"

"Get rid of them!" Buzner snapped, then left.

"This isn't the first time they've done that!" said Quarterman angrily, "They've being doing random walkthroughs all week!"

"They gave me shit for being in my room in my underwear," Dakar, an Antares Sector mid-classman complained.

"Maybe you shouldn't have been sitting around in your underwear," mid-classman Labal told her.

"I was shaving my legs!"

Following a numbers of complaints, and her own experience, T'Henki had convened a Sector meeting. Several other Sector members were now waiting for her to arrive.

Finally, she did.

"You will be pleased to know that the Quadrant Commander has instructed the Chiefs to exercise greater delicacy in their duties," she informed them.

"Really? You talked him into putting a leash on those two?" Labal asked happily.

"No. However, Cadet Dakar had filed an official grievance after her leg-shaving incident. After consulting regulations, it was found that the Chiefs were not following the regulations designed to protect our privacy.

"Of course not," mid-classman Gallium spoke up, "We're just cadets, right? We don't HAVE any rights!"

"I might remind you that the Chief recently worked at the basic training center on Titan," T'Henki said, "It may take time for him to adapt to the concept that the Academy is not basic training."

"Well maybe if he'd actually bothered to LEARN something about this place before he started going ape-shit…oh, sorry B'kar,"

B'kar, the simian mid-classman just shrugged.

"Maybe things will go up from here,"

"Good news from below," Bahred said to Verone and Veksai, "The Chiefs have been ordered to follow regs when they're doing their walkthroughs.

"Good," Verone said, "What they were doing downstairs was bullshit!"

"Not that it really impacted us," Veksai shrugged. Since the lowers were on SNAP anyway, and the since the staff had been too busy to really do anything out of the ordinary, the frequent walk-throughs by the Chiefs had been more of an annoyance than anything.

"So, we going to work on more Academy trivia tonight?" Verone asked.

"Yeah," Bahred nodded, "They're being tested on that this weekend. What do you think, 10 push-ups for every wrong answer?"

"I think that's how Vexnar and Buhras handled it when we were in SNAP," Veksai agreed, "Ohh, or that 6-inches thing, y'know, keeping your heels off the ground? I hated that one!"

"I didn't mind it, actually," Verone said.

"That's because you've got short little legs. They're easy to lift,"

Verone's panel beeped.

MESSAGE:

From: Lieutenant Salen, Academy Senior Instruction Officer

To: All SNAP Staff

Subject: SNAP PT

Please note that going forward, all SNAP staff members are forbidden from using PT, inspections or drill as punishment for poor performance. Morning PT will be permitted, but only workouts pre-approved by the SIO Office will be used.

Furthermore, any cadet failing to follow this new directive will be immediately removed from SNAP, and will forfeit their pips.

MESSAGE ENDS

Verone, Veksai and Bahred exchanged looks.

"Well what the hell do we do NOW?" Bahred demanded.

END

Next: M'kr'gr is back, but finds the Acadmey isn't the same as when he left it. Will SNAP last until the Survival Challenge, or is life at the Academy about to take a drastic change? Find out one of these days in the next instalment of Star Traks: Crash Course.

1 Quadrant – OK, I'm running out of terms here. In an effort to be science-fictiony, I replaced 'Section, Flight and Squadron' used in some of today's military units with 'Team, Squad and Sector.' In the trekkie world, the galaxy is divided into four Quadrants, each of which contains various Sectors of space. So when I needed something to parallel a Division, guess what came up. I still haven't figured out what I can use at the Academy to represent a Wing. I mean, there's only one galaxy, right?

2 Prep Week – In my year, new cadets would take basic training before arriving at the college, and would thus be at least partially prepared for the rigorous first month. Currently, new cadets have a brief 'recruit camp' first, then go for basic training after their first year at the college. I'd give my opinion of this new program, but the language used would be highly offensive.

3 Red vs Blue reference. "My name is Michael J. Caboose…and I HATE BABIES!"

4 Caithan – Walking, talking cats.


	13. Year 3 - Downhill

Copyright 2010

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

3.3 – "Downhill"

Previously, on Star Traks: Crash Course:

As the former Brute Squad cadets return for their middle (third) year at the Academy, they find a new Commandant, a new Academy Senior Instructor, new Academy Chiefs and, it seems, a new way of doing things. No sooner does SNAP begin than Verone, M'kr'gr, Bahred and Veksai find that it sure doesn't feel like the same SNAP that they themselves endured. Short-staffed after a hostile appendix attack sends M'kr'gr to the infirmary, the rest of the SNAP staff find themselves asking…

"I thought we were doing what we were SUPPOSED to be doing," Bahred said, a look of frustrated confusion on his face.

"Yeah, we haven't done anything that wasn't done during SNAP the last two years," Veksai agreed, "And now this?"

The 'this' in question had been a rather sudden and very firm order to halt any physical training of the lower classmen that wasn't directly ordered by the Academy Senior Instructor. And drill. And inspections.

"We're supposed to get them introduced to life at the Academy," Verone said, calmly but clearly upset, "Life at the Academy involves PT. It involves discipline and it involves many inspections. How are we to prepare these lowers to be successful cadets if we're not allowed to do…anything?"

Lieutenant Wellington, the Antares Sector Commander, and his cadet counterpart, senior-classman T'Henki, exchanged a glance.

"This is not the result of anything that has happened in Antares Sector," she said, the unspoken 'for once' hanging over the room, "In fact, we are quite pleased with the work you've done,"

"Then what the h…um, heck?" Veksai demanded.

"Some of the other Sectors haven't been quite so careful," Lafonge said, his arms crossed.

"That thing with Mutara Sector?" Bahred asked, leaning forward, "I heard one of their cadets fractured her neck. But she's fine! The infirmary fixed her right up!"

"Rearranging furniture," Verone agreed, "At least, that was the rumour,"

"I can't comment on that," Lt. Wellington cut in, "But I will say that because of certain incidents among the other Sectors, the DirKat is cracking down on everybody,"

"That's not fair," Verone said flatly.

"Or logical," Veksai said, looking at T'Henki. The Vulcan cadet seemed to brighten.

"One could argue that preventing all such activities removes the risk of injury," she said.

"So does curling into a ball and hiding in your room all day," Veksai said, "Speaking of which, I better make sure Dav isn't still cowering in a corner somewhere,"

"I hate to interrupt this debate, but who's side are you on, anyway?" Lafonge asked T'Henki.

"I do not agree with the DirCat," she said.

"Then why-"

"In this Sector, I do not often have the opportunity for intellectual, logical debate," T'Henki said.

"Oh. HEY!"

The next day of SNAP started off pretty much the same as most others had, despite the changes sent down by the DirKat and Senior Instructor. After all, the morning workouts and inspections were mandated by them, as were the after-class sports.

It wasn't until the evening came around that the problems started.

"I don't know what to make them do!" Bahred said to Verone as they supervised the silent Brute Squad corridor, "They missed four timings today and Terran Sector kicked their butts at Bolian soccer,"

"Two more weeks of SNAP left," Verone shook her head, "Or what passes for SNAP anyway. Really, I'm starting to feel more like a babysitter!"

Lower-classman Simth, the senior for the day, marched over, reported himself and stood at attention.

"What is it," Bahred asked.

"Permission to change into workout gear, Mr. Bahred," Simth said loudly.

"Why?"

"It's more…comfortable…" Simth trailed off.

Bahred and Verone exchanged a look.

"Denied. Maybe next time you'll actually be ready for supper on time,"

"Yes, Mr. Bahred," he returned to his room.

"You have GOT to be kidding," Veksai groaned at breakfast the next morning, "This is supposed to be one of the premier universities in the Federation and THE place for training new officers and the best way we can motivate them is to tell them they can't change into more comfortable cloths?" he sighed, "Somewhere, a 20th-Century drill sergeant is rolling in his grave,"

"Do you remember when they had the Federation Marines take us out for training?" Bahred asked, "Now those guys were tough,"

"I don't suppose they're doing that again this year?" Veksai looked hopefully at Lefonge.

"No," the senior-classman almost spat, "there are concerns that taking the lowers out into the woods would be 'unsafe'. After all, somebody might get a splinter."

"Oh geez,"

Three days later, M'kr'gr was back. He'd been hospitalized to have his appendix removed, a procedure that was apparently far more complicated for Parians than for humans. Partly because Parian appendices had a nasty habit of growing claws and teeth.

He came stomping through the Brute Squad hallway, a small covered box clutched with one meaty paw. Looking around, something seemed…off. It was too quiet. The lowers were sitting quietly in their rooms, studying. They were dressed in their day uniforms and looked…bored.

"EVERYBODY OUT IN THE HALL!" he declared loudly. There was a moment of confusion, then the lowers jumped out of their seats and scrambled to stand at attention by their doors.

"YES MR. M'KR'GR!" they shouted.

M'kr'gr moved towards his own team. He stopped in front of Palamo.

"Mr. Palamo, he said evenly, "how has your week been?"

"It's been…um…pretty good, Mr. M'kr'gr," Palamo said, the very alien cadet shifting his weight along his three legs.

"Really. Then I suppose the staff has been too easy on you while I was away,"

"Well, um,"

"What's going on here?"

M'kr'gr turned to see Lieutenant Furden, the evening Duty Officer, walking down the hallway,"

Before he could reply, Bahred was stepping out of his room.

"Mr. M'kr'gr was just sending everybody on a break from studying," he said quickly.

"I see," Furden looked suspicious, "And what's that?" he pointed at the box in M'kr'gr's hand.

"He's just getting back from the hospital," Veksai said, joining the group.

"Ah yes, I remember that report," the officer nodded, "OK, carry on,"

"You heard Mr. Bahred," Veksai said loudly, "You're on a 15 minute break. Make sure your rooms and uniforms are ready for tomorrow,"

As the lowers started running around, the two staff members pulled M'kr'gr aside.

"Careful, big guy," Bahred said, "You don't want to lose your pips,"

"What?"

They quickly and quietly explained the situation. M'kr'gr looked at them blankly.

"You must," he said slowly, "be joking,"

The next day saw the beginning of practice for the upcoming Survival Challenge.

Sort of.

"HAVE YOU READ THIS?" Veksai was fuming as he held a padd in M'kr'gr's face, "They're f**king with the Survival Challenge now!"

M'kr'gr looked down at the padd.

MESSAGE:

From: Lieutenant Salen, Academy Senior Instruction Officer

To: All SNAP Staff

Subject: Lower Classman Survival Challenge

Please note that going forward lower-classmen will be permitted to practice once only for the rope bridge and shuttle portions of the Survival Challenge, to be supplemented with supervised classes on starship and space station layouts. In the interest of lower-classman safety NO, say again, NO unauthorized practices for any other possible challenges will be permitted.

"So, since they don't want anybody getting injured practicing for the Survival Challenge, they're not letting anybody prepare for it?" Bahred shook his head, "But that's just stupid! They're going to hit the Challenge and have no idea what they're doing!"

"I know!" Veksai said angrily, "You remember our Challenge? That bit with the transporter? We had three nights practicing with Buhras and Vexnar! We would have been screwed otherwise!"

As it was, the lowers had been escorted to a rope-bridge setup near one edge of the Academy ground. It was similar to the one they were likely to encounter in the holo-patios on Challenge day, if the last two years were any indication. Two heavy cords stretched across a river, and the lowers were expected to get across. Just as Brute Squad had made the mistake of doing back when Verone, Veksai and Bahred had been lowers, Palamo, the new Brute Squad Challenge Leader, tried getting everybody across the bridge at once, with the result that the half of the Squad was dunked in the river. In their year that had been a challenge, but the generally higher fitness level had meant that they'd been able to cling to the bridge, pull themselves out of the water and continue.

This year was a bit different. No fewer than half the Squad was pulled off the bridge, necessitating their retrieval a hundred meters down the river.

"If they had been doing proper PT instead of the joke workouts you have been forced to use, this wouldn't be happening," M'kr'gr said, a hand over his eyes in an uncharacteristic show of worry.

Veksai pulled Palamo over.

"Look, that didn't work," he said, "So you need to try something a little different. Send the Squad over in two waves instead of one."

"But that'll take too long!" Palamo objected.

"Right, and losing half your people is a better idea?" Veksai snapped, "That's major penalty points!"

So they tried it again in two waves. This time, only two lowers fell into the river.

"There, see?" Veksai said, "Big improvement,"

As it had the last two years, SNAP seemed to speed up as it drew to a close. The lowers seemed increasingly drained, the staff seemed increasingly stressed and it wasn't long before everybody was hoping the whole thing would be over soon. It didn't help that every other day was a new directive forbidding some activity that the staff saw as being useful and important. And it didn't help that after two brief, brief practice sessions the lowers were forbidden from doing ANYTHING that could be considered Survival Challenge practice.

"What do you MEAN I can't even take them into the Teleportation Lab?" Veksai was almost snarling at mid-classmen Hopstrap, "They've never even TOUCHED a real transporter, and you KNOW there's going to be a transporter puzzle in the Challenge!"

"I know man," Hopstrap shook his head, "I tried yesterday. Red Squad has it booked solid for their own practice. Y'know, Solaris competition and all that."

"Red Squad?" Veksai shouted, "That competition is MONTHS away! Red Squad hasn't even been SELECTED yet!"

"But they still have priority," Hopstrap shrugged, "I'm having my guys use the little simulator program on their terminals,"

Veksai seemed to deflate.

"Yeah, we've been doing that too," he said, "But it's really not the same."

"I know. But what else can we do?"

"I quit,"

Verone's eyebrows rose up nearly to her hairline.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked.

"I quit," said Suhvank, Brute Squads older Klingon member, "This…this Academy is not worth my time."

"Um, OK…"

"I am learning nothing," he practically spat, "the other cadets are soft and weak. And I expected that. But we are doing little to harden them, to give them the heart they will need! We are being…being…CODDLED!"

Verone couldn't exactly argue that.

"What was all that about?" Veksai asked, stepping in as Suhvank was leaving.

"He wants to quit,"

"Lots of people think that in lower year," Veksai shrugged. He looked closer at Verone. Her eyes were sunken and just a bit red.

"Are YOU all right?"

"Forture and I are on a 'break'," she said unhappily, referring to her half-Klingon boyfriend of nearly two years.

"A break, huh," Veksai said carefully.

"We've been together for years," Verone said, "But the Academy…relationships here…how far can they go? We're over halfway through the program now. What happens when we're posted to different ships? We might only see each other once a year."

"Well, there are options,"

"Right, we could get married and get posted together," Verone sniffed, "I don't know if I'm ready for that, HE doesn't know if he's ready for that. Hence, break,"

Veksai really didn't know what to say.

"That sucks?" he offered.

"I have to go," Verone grumbled, "I have an appointment with the counsellor. But do me a favour, go and talk to Suhvank when you get the chance. You're an old guy, maybe he'll listen to you,"

"Um…thanks?"

The next morning, Veksai pulled Suhvank aside. He may not have been a Klingon, and he may not be able to rip somebody in half the same way Suhvank could, but he was one of the few cadets that had come to the Academy a bit later in life.

"I understand you're planning on leaving," he said carefully.

"I am," Suhvank said stiffly, his voice starting to rise "This place isn't what I expected. Neither are the other cadets. They have no…no discipline! No willpower! They're sheep ready to be led to the slaughter!"

"What are you thinking of doing instead?"

"I may apply to the Federation Marines," Suhvank said, "Or, perhaps, return to the Empire,"

"Look, Suhvank, it's your life, and your decision," Veksai said, "But I have a bit of an idea what you're going through here. And I really think you should wait until after SNAP is over to give it up. Life as a lower here isn't great, regardless. But at least you get more control over your personal training, and you don't have your Squadmates surrounding you 24/7."

"I considered sticking it out," Suhvank said, "I don't fit with them."

"They're barely 18!" Veksai exclaimed, "Or whatever their species version of 'barely an adult' is. You should have seen M'kr'gr and Bahred when we got here; they weren't any different. You have an opportunity here to watch these kids start to mature. Everybody in our class has changed a lot since we first arrived here. Especially during the summer training courses. Those especially have a way of forcing you to grow up." Veksai mentally thought of the very-realistically-simulated attack several of them had gone through aboard the USS Gagetown.

"Your class had a very different SNAP," Suhvank said, "We may be lowers, but we still hear things. We know perfectly well that things have changed."

"SNAP isn't the be-all and end-all of the Academy," Veksai shook his head, "It's supposed to be an introduction, a way to get the lowers set into habits that they need to do well here,"

"Habits like lack of practice or preparation for an important event?"

Veksai winced.

"The junior-classmen took us out last night for an extra practice session," Suhvank admitted, "After lights-out." He paused for a moment. "It still wasn't enough,"

"Glad to hear some traditions aren't changing," Veksai muttered. Lafonge and Adeth had taken their Brute Squad out more than once when they had been in their junior year.

"Look, we, the staff, we'll respect your decision," Veksai said, "But I really think you should try real Academy life before you throw the whole thing away,"

"I will consider what you've said, "Suhvank said.

Veksai and Verone watched from the far end of the corridor as Bahred and M'kr'gr brought Brute Squad back from morning PT. One thing that had been working out really well for them during SNAP had been Verone's managing of the schedule. By switching staff between PT and the morning inspection, Verone made sure that not only did the PT staff get plenty of time to clean up, but that the inspection staff could sleep in a little; something badly needed.

"Game face on," Verone said, nudging Veksai. They began the standard pace, moving up and down the corridor as the lowers rushed around to get ready. Veksai, bored with waiting, had started using the time to think up amusing (and possibly inappropriate) nicknames for each of the lowers. Dav, who still cringed in terror when Veksai approached was 'Fraidy-Brute'. His roommate Vosskal was 'Dozy-Brute', after he'd fallen asleep repeatedly at his desk during study time. Palamo was 'Keener-Brute', Lempt was 'Flaming-Brute' due to her fiery hair, not any mannerisms. Pantar, due to his resemblance to Gallium, had been nicknamed 'Princess-Brute'.

He'd kept the nicknames to himself at that point, but it hadn't stopped the lowers from giving him one of his own.

He'd been teaching them to iron, a skill rarely used in the 24th Century. Unfortunately, the only replicator pattern for an ironing board had included a flower-print cover. Veksai had found himself in the corridor, surrounded by first years and trying to explain the importance of using steam when he made his major slip of the tounge:

"Just use plenty of steam and a bit of starch, and these pant creases will stay in forever," he said, "It's a good thing,"

He knew as soon as the words had slipped out of his mouth that they were a mistake. But it was too late.

"Hey!" Lucy piped up from the quietly watching lower-classman crowd, "Like that cleaning lady…Martha Steward!"1

"Awww…crap," Veksai muttered.

At least, he now mused as he began inspecting Zett and Mitchel's room, he could comfort himself that their uniforms looked a lot better after the little lesson/incident.

As SNAP charged into the final week, it wasn't quite so hard to keep the lowers busy in the evenings. Most of their limited free time was spent planning for their Survival Challenge. Suhvank was gone, having left barely two days after his conversation with Veksai. The staff wasn't sure what was more upsetting; that he'd decided to leave, or that the rest of the squad didn't seem to grasp that they'd lost a very strong Squadmate. In fact, half of them seemed happy he was gone.

"Maybe I'm taking this a bit personally," Veksai said to Verone, "But they lost the older, more experienced and definitely the most driven member of the Squad…and they don't seem to realize what they've lost!"

"Look at it from their point of view," Verone said, "The crazy Klingon that kept bossing them around is gone. And come now, they don't all feel that way,"

"I never bossed you guys around during SNAP," Veksai muttered.

"Nooo, you just kept to yourself,"

"Better than turning myself into a target,"

"But not all that helpful to the rest of us,"

"Right, because yelling at everybody and trying to convince you all I was so much smarter than you would have been SO much more helpful,"

In any event, time stopped for no cadet, and the Survival Challenge was quickly approaching. Despite the limitations in practice, the lowers were still being given plenty of time to plan out their strategies for what was coming up. That, however, led to another decision on the part of the staff:

"It's their Challenge," Verone had said, "Let them plan it out and make their own strategy. Keep your noses out as much as possible."

"Agreed," M'kr'gr said as Veksai nodded..

"Yeah," Bahred said, "We've had our turn in the spotlight. This years Challenge is all about them, right?"

They were standing at the far end of the corridor, watching as Brute Squad made their plans. Ves 23 was still in her wheelchair, the replacement synthetic leg that she'd ordered still hadn't arrived for some reason. (The original had been shorted out during an inane Preparatory Week exercise.) Lekitte was grooming herself absently while Zett picked at one of the plugs left over from his prior life as an assimilated Borg drone. Somebody had cracked some kind of joke, and the entire Squad broke out into giggles. The next thing the staff knew, they were breaking out in a song by an older group, Rigillian Queen.

"They're not a bad group," Verone said.

"Nobody said they were, Veksai commented.

"They are a LOT better than they were a month ago," M'kr'gr added.

"Yeah," Bahred nodded, "they're pretty good. It's not their fault that…that…"

"That they've been screwed?" M'kr'gr suggested with a growl.

"That's not fair, XL," Verone said, invoked the reptiles nickname, "They've worked hard."

"We know," Veksai said, "But…there were opportunities we had that they didn't. And it's not fair to them."

"Life isn't fair," Bahred observed.

As always, the Survival Challenge was a big day at the Academy. Cadets from all years and all Sectors converged on the Parade Ring to show their support to the new lower-classmen. The Challenge itself was largely unchanged from previous years, except it had been reversed. Each Squad now started from a simulated starship, taken over by hostile intruders, in orbit of a simulated planet. After fighting (or sneaking) their way to the transporter rooms or shuttlebays for an escape, the Squads had to struggle across several ground obstacles to a simulated friendly outpost.

Brute Squad started off pretty good, with Zett leading them through the Jefferies tubes towards the transporter room. The one time they'd been caught, Octavia had let out a hyper-sonic screeched that had stunned the enemy long enough for the rest of the squad to stun them with training phasers. The transporter had proven to be a bit of a problem, with Lekitte being accidently sliced in half by a mis-calibration in the beam. Simulated, of course. The SNAP staff and the rest of Antares Sector were cheering on the lowers as they approached the rope bridge.

"Wait, what are they…" Veksai's eyes widened in surprise, "Ohhh, no, no, nonononoooo…"

M'kr'gr's jaw had dropped.

Instead of splitting into two waves, the entire squad was making it way over the bridge. As it had in practice, the bridge dipped into the river. As in the practice, the current pulled at the lowers.

And, as in the practice, almost half of the squad was pulled into the river and out of sight.

The cheering from the Sector faltered briefly, then resumed at a somewhat reduced level. The lowers left, Mitchel, Palamo, Lucy, Kansel, Lathe and Zett and Tik, struggled their way past the last two obstacles and into the safety of the simulated compound.

The holopatio abruptly shut down and Lafonge thrust the glowing red sphere of Antares Sector in Palamo's hands and pushed him towards the Federation Emblem.

"Finish this!" he shouted, "RUN!"

Surrounded by the higher years, Brute Squad sprinted towards the emblem and pressed the Antares Sector sphere into place.

As the lower-classmen fell over each other in celebration, the staff looked on.

"Hard to believe it's over, huh?" Veksai said.

"No, it's not over," Lafonge said, "SNAP may be over, but you are still their staff for the rest of the semester. And let me tell you something," he pointed at each of them, " the officers here may have made things hard for you this month, but you gave it your best, and those cadets are never, never going to forget who you are or the work you put in,"

That was, they reflected, something of a comfort.

The comm-badging ceremony went off without incident, the staff watching from the sidelines until it was time for them to come out and present the lowers with their new Academy comm-badges. And then the Academy emptied. For the lowers and the staff, it was their first free weekend all month. Predictably, the lowers rushed off campus to spend time away from the Academy, venturing into San Francisco with parents, friends or just on their own. For the staff, it was time to get back to life as usual.

"You know," Veksai was saying, "I kept hearing staff from past years saying they had a tonne of schoolwork waiting for them when SNAP ended. But I'm pretty much caught up,"

"That is because you're a workaholic," M'kr'gr said. He, on the other hand, had a pile of schoolwork on his desk, along with that same covered box he'd been carrying when he'd returned from the hospital.

"Well that, and I had my really tough courses in junior year," Veksai shrugged.

"I need to get back into the gym," M'kr'gr said, absently rubbing his abdomen, "This injury has set me back in my program."

"Right, because being able to fit through doors is a pain," Veksai said dryly, "Seriously, you get much bigger and you won't fit!"

M'kr'gr grunted.

"Did you know," he said, "that there were a record number of injuries this year among the lowers during the Challenge? Perhaps, if they had been more fit and had been given the chance to practice that may not have happened."

"Preaching to the choir, big guy," Veksai said, patting his shoulder.

Life at the Academy settled back into its never-changing routine. Classes were attended, sports were played, Terran Sector was mocked by the rest of the Academy and the Cochrane Memorial was mysteriously moved to the roof of the Brinn Planetarium. The top floor of Fort Hillier, formerly off-limits to all but SNAP staff and lower-classmen was now just another dormitory floor. Strangely, few higher years came to visit the lower-classmen. Some came up to see the staff, but life on the upper floor was starting to feel just a bit isolated.

On the other hand, it didn't take long to realize that it wasn't just the upper floor.

Veksai was wandering around the Antares Sector floor, trying to put his finger on just what felt…wrong…about the new building. He walked up and down the hallway, but wasn't quite sure. Something was missing.

He stepped into the men's room, walked around the partition to the showers. Sure enough, in one of the tubs off to the side, a pile of green mould was wheezing slightly.

"Hi, Roger," Veksai said.

"Hello…mid-classman…" Roger wheezed in its airy voice. Roger had been with Antares Sector since Veksai had been in lower year. He'd…congealed, for lack of a better term, from the various moulds and spores that had been present in Fort Pike, their old condemned dorm. Somehow, he'd gained self-awareness. Aside from scaring the hell out of anybody who took a shower, Roger had proven to be a very fast learner.

"So," Veksai sat uncomfortably on the edge of the tub, "How are things?"

"Quiet," Roger breathed. It didn't have vocal cords, per se, but it still managed to speak, "I think everybody has gotten used to me. I haven't made anybody scream in weeks,"

"That's good," Veksai said.

"Is it? I'm a…mould monster. I should…make…people scream,"

"Who told you that?"

"B'kar," Roger replied, referring to a monkey-like alien boy now in junior year.

"Don't listen to him, his mind works in weird ways," Veksai assured Roger. But speaking of B'kar, maybe it was time to pay the junior a visit.

Veksai barely made it four paces into the corridor before running into Akavari Kumari, an Indian girl in his year.

"Kumari!" he said warmly, "Haven't seen you in ages!"

"Well, you know middle year," she said, "I've been running around like crazy!"

"Is that where everybody is?" Veksai asked, gesturing at the empty hallway.

"Naw, they're probably just in their rooms," she replied.

"But…something feels really weird here," he said.

Kumari gave a sort of sad little smile.

"You mean the fact that all the doors are shut, hardly anybody is wandering around the hallway and nobody is yelling a conversation from one room to another?"

Veksai's eyes widened in realization.

"Exactly!" he said.

"It's because we're not in Fort Pike anymore," Kumari said glumly, "The doors in this new building close automatically. And the maintenance people yell at us if we prop them open."

"But this place is so…so…dead!"

"I know!"

They stood in silence for a moment.

"I gotta go, Ross is waiting for me," Kumari said.

"Yeah, I'm going back upstairs," Veksai took another look around the empty hallway, "This just…sucks!"

666 Days to Blast-Off. A tradition running back countless years, a chance for the senior-classmen to enjoy a bit of fun as their final year at the Academy kicks into overdrive. Mid-term exams were done, giving everybody a chance to blow off some steam. Senior and lower classmen would trade pip positions, senior classmen would adopt what they believed to be the mannerisms of a lower-classmen, while the lowers would try to take on the day-to-day running of the Academy, despite the fact that nobody was listening to them or wanted to take them seriously. And, being the Academy, the event was documented, memos were written and officers vowed to avoid the Parade Ring for that morning's muster.

Somebody, apparently, missed the memo.

"Come on everybody, I said quick march!" lower-classman Octavia called. She'd traded places with Dril, the Sector Cadet Trainer and was trying to march Antares Sector to the Parade Ring while wearing a tunic that fit her like a tent. (Her tunic was wrapped around Drill's left arm.)

"Quick what?" senior-classsman Adeth asked, his tunic askew and his marching decidedly non-regulation, "Hey, Labal, what's a quick march? I don't know, I'm just a lower!"

Senior-classman Junethec slipped accidentally-on-purpose on Kodene's slime trail as the squid-like Velvattian twisted its way along the route.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

Everybody turned to see the source of the scream, Academy Chief of Cadets Buznar running from his office towards the path, eyes wide and moustache vibrating.

"SOMEBODY BETTER EXPLAIN THIS RIGHT NOW!" he demanded, slowing as he approached Antares, "This is COMPLETELY unacceptable behaviour!" One finger speared towards Octavia, "What is SHE DOING in a tunic EIGHT SIZES TOO BIG?"

Octavia flinched back and whimpered.

Malespere, the Deputy Academy Training Officer, quickly moved out of ranks and pulled the Chief aside. A few moments later, Malespere was returning to the Sector and the Chief was stalking angrily back towards his office.

"Well?" junior-classman B'kar asked.

"Don't worry about it," Malespere said, "We aren't doing anything that wasn't already approved. Guess he missed the memo,"

"Bet you fifty credits they left him off the list on purpose," Veksai grumbled, "Just so they could watch him blow up at us,"2

Archie Bahred was sitting in his room, studying for a test in Astrophysics. With 666 Days over, it was time to knuckle under and focus hard for the month of November, before final exams cropped up. As with most of the mid-classmen, Bahred was finding himself nearly overwhelmed with the amount of school-work that had been dumped on his plate. For a few programs the heavy academic year was the junior year, but the majority hit the big crunch in middle year.

"I think my head is going to explode," Bahred groaned. His roommate, Malespere, was buried in a pile of n-Dimensional Physics papers.

A splitting siren suddenly rang out the room, accompanied by a flashing red light.

"This isn't helping!" Bahred fumed.

"Dude, it's an evacuation alert!" Malespere said, jumping to his feet, "We gotta get out!"

They stepped out of their room and into the hallway. All around them, Antares cadets were coming out of their rooms with confused looks on their faces. Down towards the end of the hall, a pair of uniformed security officers were directing people away from the east exit. Behind them, Bahred barely caught a glimpse of junior-classman B'kar as two more uniformed security officers slapped cuffs on him and hauled him away.

"What the…"

"This is pretty messed up," junior-classman Labal commented, looking at Fort Hillier from the grassy field where Antares and Veltran Sectors had gathered after the evacuation. A Starfleet runabout was parked next to the east stairwell and a group of officers was navigating a small robotic drone into the door.

"What exactly happened?" Veksai demanded.

"Well, we don't know for sure yet," his roommate Igor said, "But I heard somebody telling T'Henki that they found a bomb in B'kar' room,"

"A bomb!?"

"Not exactly," senior-classman Dril joined in, the 7-foot tall Lemnorian looking like he was having a decidedly unpleasant day.

30 MINUTES PRIOR

Chief Buznar and Chief Angel were doing one of their many walkthrough inspections of the cadet rooms in Fort Hillier. Granted, they'd toned things down somewhat after the leg-shaving incident, but the cadets still had to be kept in line!

"Junior-classmen B'kar and Scuuter,", Buzner read off the door plate. They rang the chime and, hearing no answer, used their overrides to open to the door.

"Laundry on the floor," Angel commented as Buznar began writing on one of the mirrors, "Dust on the shelves." He opened a cabinet.

"Buznar, come here," Angel said, his voice suddenly very quiet.

Buznar came over, to find himself staring at an odd, jury-rigged looking contraption.

"Is that a tetryon particle generator wired to a remote activator?" Buznar asked calmly.

"Yes. Yes it is."

The two men stepped back slowly, exited the room, then frantically called up Academy Security, Starfleet Security and the Emergency Response Unit.

Antares and Veltran had been waiting for nearly two hours before they finally had the OK to go back into the building. Even then, Scooter wasn't happy.

"I can't go back in my room!" he objected loudly, hauling a cot into Wronski and Labal's room, "They've got it closed off as 'evidence'!"

"That's what happens when your roommate is a mad bomber!" Labal said with a wide grin.

"It wasn't a bomb!" Scooter snapped, "He grabbed a tetryon generator from the fireworks display at 666 to Blast-Off and wanted to be able to set it off remotely!"

"Fireworks?" Baxter asked, his expression oddly flat.

"Fireworks!"

"Didn't anybody think to tell him that wiring up something that looks a lot like a weapon would be a Bad Idea?" Veksai asked, on his way back to the stairwell.

"Of course I told him! But he wouldn't listen to me!" Scooter said, "His brain is like 'Oh, cool idea! I'm going to do it!' He doesn't stop to think about the shit he can get into!"

"Well, maybe a few days in the brig will cure that," Baxter mused.

They stepped through the doors into the Fort Hillier lobby and stopped. The large display on the rear wall showed, as always, the attendance board for Veltran and Antares Sectors. On one side, it also showed the ranking of all the dozens of Sectors at the Academy. Everything they did, from the Survival Challenge to their academic and fitness scores to their inspection results were tabulated and analyzed, with the Sectors being ranked accordingly. Antares Sector had been considered something of the black sheep of the Academy when Bahred, Veksai and Baxter had arrived, but had managed to stay ranked just under the halfway mark for their first two years. Now…

"Is that thing right?" Baxter asked.

"I dunno," Scooter said, not really paying attention, "Probably just a computer glitch."

According to the board, after the mid-term exams marks had been factored in, Antares was pretty close to the top of the list, ranked #10, something none of them had seen before.

"They'll fix it by tomorrow," Baxter shrugged, "Anybody wanna go to Scotty's? I need a beer."

"OK, Brute Squad," Verone was saying, "Some info on the Starfleet Academy Non-Denominational, Non-Discriminatory Festive Meal and Socialization Event."

"You mean 'Christmas Ball'?" Lucy asked.

"No, don't call it that," Verone said, "Right, so the dress is as follows…"

SNAP may have been over, but as always the SNAP staff remained with the lowers for the rest of the semester, until the pip panel changed. Their role had changed from PT and discipline and more into a guiding role, making sure the lower-classmen learned what they needed to learn and did what they needed to do during their first semester at the Academy. Of course, results may vary. Veksai was especially frustrated with Lekitte, who spent so much time playing Bolian soccer that she never seemed to do anything else. On the other hand, mandatory extra PT and the desire to actually improve (as opposed to slacking off when the PT instructors weren't looking) had led Vosskal to drop in weight considerably. The walrus-like cadet was looking considerably less walrus-like and more like…some other, leaner animal with tusks.

"Veksai, come here," M'kr'gr called from his room as Verone went over proper wearing of the formal maroon tunics used by the Academy.

"What's up?" Veksai asked. He noticed the covered box M'kr'gr had brought back from the hospital was still sitting on his desk, next to some very well-gnawed chicken bone.

"The DirCat has struck again," M'kr'gr said with a look of disgust.

MESSAGE:

From: Captain Smitty, Academy Director of Cadets

To: All Pipmen

Subject: Academy Shield

Please note that going forward, no tampering of any kind with the Academy environmental systems including defensive shields or weather modification systems will be permitted. In addition, snowball fights are officially banned on Academy Grounds

MESSAGE ENDS

"Great," Veksai shook his head, "So much for the annual snowball attack on Terran Sector."

"Another Acadmy tradition is shot down," M'kr'gr shook his head.

"I guess they don't see it as a tradition," Vekisa sighed.

"It wasn't about them," M'kr'gr said, "It was a chance to build moral between cadets and Sectors."

"That's what they said about SNAP," Veksai muttered, "And 666 to Blast-Off. And the Survival Challenge."

"Yeah, and we can see how well those went this year,"

"Point taken."

Final exams came and went. No fewer than 8 cadets suffered seizures during n-Dimensional Hyper-Calculus, three simulated warp-cores suffered catastrophic breaches and twenty-three simulated starships performed graceful swan-dives into stellar cores due to faulty navigational programming. Still, considering the number of cadets at the Academy, this was only a small percentage.

"I passed Hull Stress Analysis!" Kumari announced happily upon her return.

"And I passed Xeno-Sexuality!" Gallium exclaimed back, earning strange looks from the people around him.

"What?" he asked, "Everybody needs some loving!"

"Including your 'girlfriend'?" Igor asked, making little air-quotes. His own girlfriend had come by the campus just enough for everybody to know she was in fact a real person, but not so much that his roommate was irritated with 'sock on doorknob' syndrome.

"Beth is real!" Gallium objected, his blue skin blushing a darker shade.

"Are we arguing about Gallium's imaginary girlfriend again?" Veksai asked, walking by with a suitcase. Everybody was taking off for the holiday, including the very excited lower-classmen.

"She's real!" Gallium objected, "You'll see!" The padd he was carrying started beeping. "In fact, she's waiting for me to hop the cross-continental shuttle to Berlin!"

"Berlin? The leather-fetish capitol of Europe?"

"Shut up!" Gallium snapped, grabbing his bag off the floor and stomping out the front doors.

Holidays came, holidays went. Pips changed, with senior-classman Litnis now the Antares Cadet Sector Leader. Additionally, the Sector Commander, Lt. Wellington, had been replaced with a new officer, Lt. Naugut. Day to day, the cadets didn't see much of a change, as the Sector Commander was meant to advise the Sector Leader as opposed to actually running the show. But some did notice that paperwork that had previously been slowly meandering through the system was suddenly zipped right though.

Not all changes were so pleasant, unfortunately.

"THIS IS COMPLETELY NUTS!" shouted mid-classman Cuirass, one of Veksai's classmates in Introduction to Bio-neural Circuits. He waved his padd under Veksai's nose "Have you SEEN this?"

"The new dress code?" Veksai grumbled, "Yes. Yes I have. Don't talk to me about it,"

"All mid-classmen will now wear business-casual wear appropriate to their species when off duty," Cuirass read loudly, ignoring the 'THUNK' as Veksai's forehead met his desk, "All junior-classmen will now wear appropriate formal or semi-formal dress, and all senior-classmen will select from the following allowable options. This is to ensure that Academy cadets meet the high standards of professionalism expected from Starfleet officers. Have you ever heard such a complete load of s**t!"

"Every time you open your mouth," Veksai grumbled.

"F**k you!" Cuirass snapped. He paused. "Well OK, yeah. But I mean with this dress code,"

"I'm furious," Veksai said, "Aside from the fact that the Academy is messing around even more with our personal lives, have you actually read the dress code for off-duty Starfleet officers?"

"Well…yeah!" Cuirass said, "I was with you on the USS Gagetown last summer. We never had to do anything like this when we went off-ship for a little break,"

"Exactly. Starfleet officers are expected to dress neatly, in clothing that is in good repair and has no offensive logos, symbols, slogans or phrases," Veksai sounded like he was reciting something from memory, "This bulls**t isn't a Starfleet dress code, it's an ACADEMY dress code."

"Are you two complaining about the new dress code?" another cadet in the class sat next to them. Mid-classman Matew was a short, round being with fuzzy brown hair. Nobody was really sure what species he was, and they weren't really interested enough to ask.

"I suppose you like it?" Cuirass said sharply.

"No, I think whoever came up with that stupid thing should burn in the depths of Hell," Matew said.

They looked at each other.

"Three years, and I think that's the first time we've all agreed on something," Matew said, surprised.

Veksai had barely gotten back to Fort Hillier that evening when he passed M'kr'gr moving quickly up and down the corridors, a look of worry on his face.

"What's up?" he asked, "Hey, did you see that Antares is up to 7th place in the Academy ranking? What's with that?"

M'kr'gr looked indecisive for moment, then spoke quietly.

"I lost it," he said.

"Um, OK," Veksai said, confused, "Lost what?"

"My appendix!"

"Uhh…they took that out months ago," Veksai said, wondering if maybe XL was studying a little too hard.

"No! I mean, it escaped!"

"Escaped?"

M'kr'gr held up the small covered box he'd brought back from the hospital, the same box which had sat on his desk for the past semester and a bit. With the cover pulled half off, Veksai could see it was a small cage.

"You can't be serious," Veksai said flatly.

"They were going to kill it!" M'kr'gr objected, "After it grew claws and tried to rip it's way out of my body, the hospital staff were going to put it in the matter reclamation unit! So I snuck it out! And I might have…sort of…bumped over the cage when I was…er…checking my work-out progress."

"You mean flexing in front of the mirror," Veksai said.

"Shut up and help me find it!"

"Mr. Veksai," it was lower-classman Octavia, coming quickly up the corridor "you should come, quick!"

"I'm sort of in the middle of something," Veksai tried to say. Octavia called to someone, then lower-classman Kansel was pulled along the corridor by lower-classman Ves-23, her cybernetic leg finally having been replaced over Christmas. Veksai started when he saw the pasty, sickly look on the lower-classman's face.

"I'm fine," Kansel was objecting, "You're all getting too worked-up over nothing!"

"Lift your shirt," Ves-23 ordered him.

Grunting, he complied.

"HOLY S**T!" Veksa exclaimed, M'kr'gr's problem suddenly forgotten. Kansel's body had broken out in a spectacular, multicoloured rash, the likes of which they'd never before seen. "Have you been to the infirmary?" he demanded.

"It's nothing," Kansel insisted, "Look, something bit me when I was sleeping. This is just a little rash, that's it. It'll go away by tomorrow."

"You need to see a doctor," Ves-23 insisted.

"Yeah, she's right," Veksai said. He moved to grab the lower by the arm, then thought the better of it. "Come with me. NOW!"

Still objecting, Kansel followed Veksai towards the exit. Goal achieved, Ves-23 and Octavia returned to their rooms.

"At least now I know where my appendix went," M'kr'gr muttered to himself, grabbing the cage and moving towards Kansel's room.

Weeks continued to pass, the irresistible Academy routine drawing in cadets of all years. No amount of grumbling or memos would deter the Academy officers from implementing the hated dress code, and admittedly the senior-classmen who could have put up the biggest fight cared the least, as they were now less than two months from their commissioning and graduation. Kumari, Bahred, M'kr'gr, Quarterman, Fastocheni and Bizkit found themselves sucked into their studies, many long hours spent struggling with assignments. By contrast, Veksai and Gunthar found themselves with more free time than they'd had since arriving, as the Isolinear & Bio-neural Engineering program had already had its heavy academic year during their junior year.

One cold, rainy Thursday night found Veksai and Igor sitting in Scotty's, (informally known by the Klingon and Andorian cadets as the 'Human Hide-Away) sharing a pitcher of synthale. Scotty's was always an interesting place to go; Sector divisions meant so much less there. It was unusual to go into the comfortable lounge/bar/coffee house and NOT run into a classmate, a Sector-mate, or a cadet you'd met during summer training on the USS Richelieu, USS Gagetown, Waystation, or one of the other training ships/centers. As it was, the two Antares cadets had been joined by mid-classman Som'ki, whom they'd met aboard the Gagetown, and senior-classman Saks, who'd been aboard Waystation with Veksai the year before.

"…can't wait to get the f**k out of here," Saks was saying, "I did my internship on the USS Endeavor this past summer? SOOO not like the Academy. You can actually have a life there." He took a long swing of his drink, "The officers don't treat you like s**t, you actually go places and the food doesn't come from a batch of sadistic holograms that were designed to do surgery!"

Igor winced.

"My chicken breast had an implant yesterday," he said, "And they do their tricks with holograms!"

"So if you complain, whatever they put in your food just vanishes," Veksai agreed.

"Disgusting," Saks said, "But that's what I mean! You guys were on ship last summer, did you ever have people treat you like that?"

Their reply was cut off when somebody cranked the volume on the holo-vision hanging on one wall.

"…Joan Reddings, coming to you with this exclusive AWN Breaking News Bulletin! A representative from Starfleet Command has confirmed reports than an unidentified ship attacked the USS Explorer while she was engaged in aiding a Tellarite frigate. Unconfirmed reports suggest that the attacking ship was none other than the USS Idlewild, commanded by fugitive Captain Alvin Ficker, however Starfleet refuses to comment of the current whereabouts of Captain Ficker or on his involvement in the matter…"

"Creepy," Som'ki said, "See those coordinates?" he gestured at the screen, which was showing where the attack had taken place, "That's only a couple of days from here,"

"What does that have to do with us?" Igor asked.

"I've heard that a Ficker has some senior-classmen cadets with him," Saks said, "They disappeared while they were doing an internship, then turned up with him."

"How could you POSSIBLY know that?"

"You remember Sparkes?" Saks asked.

"No,"

"Small girl. Nice, but kinda quiet. She's in my Sector, but she got an extended internship on the Explorer."

"Wow,"

"Yeah. Apparently this Ficker thing is pretty big,"

Veksai drank more of his ale.

"I doubt we have to worry about it," he said, "The odds of something dangerous and important happening to us are pretty slim,"

Several days later…

"RED ALERT! SAY AGAIN, THE ACADEMY IS ON RED ALERT!"

"Nothing interesting ever happens to us!" Igor snapped at Veksai as the two of them ran from Fort Hilliar to their assigned emergency shelter, "That's what you said!"

"OK, I'm an idiot!" Veksai admitted, "How was I going to know the Explorer and the Idlewild were going to show up in orbit and start shooting at each other?"3

"Why don't they have the Academy shield up?" Bizkit demanded, looking very worried as he ran next to them.

"Who knows?"

There was a loud roar overhead as a small Federation-style starship soared through the air, almost like it was making a bombing run on the Academy. At the last minute, the ship nose-dived, tried to pull up, then performed a belly-flop crash right in the middle of a large grassy field a few hundred meters from Fort Hillier. The Antares cadets skidded to a stop, staring in shock.

"Epic fail!" Derok cried out loudly.

It took a few days for the story to come out. Most of it had been classified, but since several senior cadets had been involved, enough rumours circulated down for everybody to piece together what had happened.

"…Captain Baxter had been chasing this Ficker guy for years," Veksai was telling the lower-classmen, "And I guess Ficker got his hands on this mind-control ray, and had the bright idea of taking over Starfleet by using it on the Academy. But the Explorer crew stopped him time."

"So, we were the targets of an evil mind-control plot and nobody remembered to tell us?" Vosskal asked.

"Yeah," Veksai shrugged, "Scary, huh?"

"I think if we'd been brainwashed, we would have liked it," Octavia said, "Isn't that the way brainwashing works?"

Everybody looked at her oddly for a moment, then went back to their rooms.

Despite the brief excitement, life at the Academy again fell into routine. Finals came and went, and with a speed that took everybody off-guard, it was time for the commissioning and graduation parade.

Another event that had taken Antares Sector off-guard was the release of the final Academy rankings. Antares, former black sheep, was now one of the highest ranked squadrons in the college, tied for third place with Mutara sector.

"I can't believe how things change," Quarterman was saying after they'd read the announcement, "I mean, we've gone from being Secondprize material to being…being…respectable?"

"It's not that we've gotten any better," senior-classman, soon to be Ensign Adeth told her, "It's just that everybody else is so depressed about all the s**t that's happened this year, they've sunk down to our level."

Whatever the cause, next year's lower-classmen wouldn't be wincing when they were assigned to Antares Sector.

Speaking of the lower-classmen, another event had gone done very different from the previous year.

"Yeah, I'm SNAP staff next year," junior-classman Labal told Veksai and Bahred, "Me, Wronski, P'wall. And Verone is Squad Leader. But man, only two of us actually applied for it! There was nowhere near the craze we had last year,"

"SNAP changed," Veksai shrugged sadly, "It's not as exciting anymore. I just hope next year works out better, for your guys' sake,"

"We didn't have many applications for pip positions next year, either," Bahred said, "M'kr'gr is going to be Sector Leader, but only two other people applied for it."

"Yeah, I'm a Team Leader again," Veksai said, "I would have liked Squad Leader, but really, I don't want to get involved in the upper pip positions…not if it means dealing with the sort of things that happened this year."

"You're not the only one," Bahred mused, "Hey, I gotta get to the graduation practice."

Unlike their lower year, only a few of the Antares Sector mid-classmen were actually part of the parade. Most were involved with other duties, performing tasks that would ensure that the festivities went on smoothly. But there was a different sense in the air this year. In their lower year, they had all taken part in the graduation ceremony and vowed that one day it would be them on the Parade Ring, marching off the Academy grounds for the last time to begin their new careers in the fleet. Junior year had been more of the same. 'Yes, one day that's going to be us, another year closer, blah, blah blah.'

Now, however, there was light at the end of the tunnel. Three long years had already passed. Three years of classes, exams, physical training, language training, summer fleet training and all the assorted extra crap that went with being part of a para-military organization. Now, only one year remained. One single year, then it would be their turn.

They could only hope the next year would pass as quickly as this one had.

End

1 In Star Traks: The Vexed Generation, the frozen body of Martha Stewart was found by an alien race known as the Leera. Enthralled with her ideas, they made her their leader, changed their name to the Leeramar and set out on a galactic war against dirt and grime before being stopped by the crew of the USS Explorer.

2 I wish this was completely fictional. I really do.

3 This is a tie-in to the series finale of Star Traks: The Vexed Generation in which Captain Ficker attempts to take control of Starfleet by using a brainwashing ray on the cadets of the Academy.


	14. Year 4 - Homestretch

Copyright 2011

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

4.1 – "Homestretch – Part 1"

"So to wrap up, ladies, gentlemen and other genders, you are the senior leadership of this Academy," Commandant August Amouren was saying, "All the other pipmen along with the incoming lower-classmen will be looking to you for guidance,"

"So don't screw it up," Captain Toupee, the new Director of Cadets added grimly.

M'kr'gr would have rolled his eyes, if he'd been human. As a Parian, aka a giant fanged reptile, he merely allowed his tongue to dart out and taste the air. He was not receiving good signals from this new DirCat. And considering that she was going to be in charge of every silly policy, rule and regulation that governed the lives of he and his fellow cadets that was not a good thing. On the other hand, the former DirCat had proven to be an absolute disaster, so how bad could this new one really be?

M'kr'gr was the new Cadet Sector Leader for Antares Sector. He, along with senior-classmen Guthar and Baxter, his deputy and Cadet Sector Training Officer respectively, formed the senior leadership for one of the dozens of cadet Sectors that made up the Academy. Granted, they had a Sector Commander, an actual commissioned officer, to help them out. But the day-to-day decisions and their consequences rested with them.

As the briefing room emptied, M'kr'gr quickly spotted senior-classmen Verone, his lower-classan Squad Leader along with Quarterman and Bizkit. The latter two were Squad Leaders for the remaining Antares cadets.

"Oh yeah, baby!" Baxter grinned as they converged into a group, "We're it now! Large and in charge!"

"I just hope SNAP runs more smoothly this year," Verone said dryly.

"Did you see the day count in the dining hall?" Guthar said in his thick accent, "235 days until graduation. That's it!"

"A whole school year," Verone nodded, "But it's going to pass fast,"

"Definitely," M'kr'gr agreed.

They left the briefing room and took a turbolift down to the ground floor of Khitomer Building, the Academy's central structure. The spire of a building housed much of the administration complex of the Academy, along with some labs, lecture halls and classrooms. It also featured the security and operations departments, although the only visible sign on the building exterior that it might not be part of an ordinary university was the ring of defensive shield generators perched on the roof. Most of the individual disciplines had their own buildings surrounding Khitomer, such as the Montgomery Scott Theoretical Propulsion Laboratory or the Sonak Experimental Teleportation Complex.

"Have you heard anything about our new Sector Commander?" Guthar asked.

"Lt. Naugut is gone?" Baxter asked, "Sweet!"

"Not sweet, Dylan," Verone corrected him, "Lt. Naugut was an excellent officer. He advised the pipmen, but didn't overpower them. He handled Sector issues very well. We were lucky to get him,"

"Uh-huh," Baxter waver her away, "All I know is, this is my last year at school and my last chance to PAR-TAY!"

"I wonder why he left so quickly," M'kr'gr wondered.

"They probably just needed to give him something to do while he waited for his next ship to arrive," Verone suggested.

"I suppose," M'kr'gr shrugged

Over in Fort Hillier, Steven Veksai and Sergei Igor surveyed a neighbouring pair of single rooms on the third floor of Fort Hilliar.

"Advantages of being a senior-classman," Veksai observed, noting the single bed, the single desk, the single closet and the complete lack of anything that would permit a second person to live in the room.

"No more waiting for each other to finish with the sink," Igor said.

"No more dealing with the odour from your feet," Veksai said.

"No more waiting for you to leave before I can bring Madeline over," Igor smiled.

"No more walking in on you and Madeline in the reverse cowboy position," Veksai agreed.

"Hey guys! No more roommates!" Gell Gallium, a blue-skinned Bolian said as he came down the corridor, "Isn't that great?"

"If we'd been able to stay in Fort Pike we would have had our own rooms for every year except our lower year," Igor pointed out.

"And if we'd been in almost any other Sector, we would have had our own rooms for our middle-year at the very least," Veksai added.

"Not Canopus or Sirrius Sectors," Gallium said, "They still have seniors doubled up,"

"Shitty,"

"Hey, guess what?" Gallium said excitedly.

They both stared at him.

"What?" Veksai asked.

"Well...you have to guess. That's why I said 'guess what',"

Igor laughed.

"C'mon Gallium, just tell us,"

"Well, I've been crunching some numbers," the Bolian said, "And with my course load, and the requirements for my program, if I take on an extra class this semester I can graduate and get my commission a semester early!`

"Really," Veksai's eyebrows shot up, "What the hell? My program's already been crunched from a five-year course schedule to four years. They couldn't make it any shorter without killing me,"

"What's your program again?"

"Bio-neural Computer Engineering," Veksai replied, "And you're..."

"Xeno-economics," Gallium said, "Specializing in Vulcan commerce,"

"Don't Vulcans use logic on everything?" Igor asked.

"Yeah," Gallium replied warily.

"So... they don't, like, bicker, or haggle, or cheat, or fix prices, or do other greedy stuff?" Igor asked.

"I guess,"

"So aren't their economics boring as hell?" Veksai cut in, seeing where this was going.

"Yeah, how else can I learn them a semester early?" Gallium said.

"But do you really want to find yourself stuck on Vulcan five years down the road, after you get out of the Fleet, stuck in a desert listening to old people debate the logic of selling a jug of milk?" Veksai askd.

"I don't plan on leaving the Fleet when my term is up," Gallium shrugged, "So I don't really care. Besides, Vulcans are all vegan,"

"A jug of orange juice then, whatever!"

"But what about Graduation?" Igor asked, "The Commissioning Ceremony? We've been working for that for three years!"

"I don't care anymore," Gallium shook his head, "I just want out of here, the sooner the better. I'm sick of this place,"

"Yeah, but..."

"Gallium! HQ meeting!" M'kr'gr called from down the hall.

"Gotta run!" Gallium said, "I agreed to be the new Sector Administrator. I need my pip positions to graduate, after all,"

He ran down the hall.

"When the hell did he get so bitter?" Veksai asked, confused.

"Dude, this place sucks. Especially since the new Commandant came in last year," Igor replied.

"Well, yeah. But Gallium was always so...positive,"

"Huh,"

"Based on statistics from previous years, I can safely say that your Final Projects will be the biggest obstacles to graduating that you will face this year," Professor Jey Kint said, speaking to the combined Computer and Power System Engineering classes, including the Bio-neural Computer, Isolinear Computer, Fusion Generation and Matter-Antimatter Generation Engineering sub-groups, "This isn't because the projects we assign are impossible,"

One of the other professors in the room cleared her throat.

"Well, OK, some of them are theoretical impossibilities unless you take into account certain unlikely theories regarding quantum reversals, time travel or unless you can manage to make use of at least seven dimensions in your implementation. But the point is, students don't fail their Final Projects because they're impossible. They fail them because they keep putting things off, until all of a sudden you have your presentations a month away, no prototype, and the next thing you know you're not sleeping for the next month because you're pulling all nighters in the lab only to show up for your presentation as a zombie of your former self, barely coherent enough to explain an internal combustion engine, never-mind a theoretical plasma compression system designed to improve warp plasma energy levels." He paused. "By the way, Cadet Kingsly recovered from his plasma burns, was kept at the Academy for the summer to complete his project and managed to finally earn his degree. Two months after his classmates departed."

Veksai looked over at Plachet and Layat, his two project partners. They'd been teamed up the previous semester and were apparently supposed to be working on some kind of navigation program for robotic exploration probes. He wasn't really sure if he was happy about that or not. Robotics really wasn't his area of interest, and he didn't know either Plachet or Layaha all that well. That, and most groups only had two people. Working in a three person group might mean their project would have higher expectations than everybody elses.

"First things first," Professor Kint went on, "Unfortunately, Cadet Gorg has to retake Stellar Analysis and will have to repeat a year. Therefore, we`re changing the groups. Mr. Veksai, you`re being moved onto the Intrusion Detector team with Mr. Guthar. I will be your supervising professor. Mr. Plachet and Ms. Layat, you will continue to work on the Cooperative Probing Initiative with Professor Baloo."

There was a series of snickers from the group. Plachet turned red, while Layat directed a pissed-of glare around the room.

"At least you won't be getting probed, dude," somebody whispered to Veksai as he moved to an empty seat next to Guthar.

"How's your programming?" Guthar asked.

"Isolinear, it's fine. But I'm not learning bio-neural programming until this semester,"

"Me neither, but I know we'll need it for this project,"

"Which starts today," Veksai shoot his head, "Who the hell planned our course schedule anyway!?"

Veksai and senior-classman Matew were sitting on the patio at Scotty's, trying to work their way through the lab report for their Isolinear Circuits class. Matew, a short, round, furred alien, had been Veksai's lab partner for most of the classes that didn't give him the option of working on his own. He'd proven to be an able lab partner, though picking fur out of the delicate circuitry was getting a bit annoying.

"WHOOO!" somebody shouted, "Yeah man! Junior year rocks!"

Veksai was knocked forward in his chair as two more junior-classmen, excited by the fact that their school year was NOT starting with SNAP, ran past to help their companion with his beer pitcher.

"Who are all these kids anyway?" Veksai grumbled, "I hardly recognize anybody in here anymore. Spyder, Dyrob...all graduated."

"Yes," Matew agreed, "I don't know why I even bother coming here anymore,"

The junior-classmen had been joined by a few middle-classmen and were trying to get the pool table uncovered.

"That's it. I can finish formatting the data in my room tonight," Veksai said, shaking his head, "If you're OK with writing up the procedure?"

"Yeah, OK," Matew said, not really paying attention.

Veksai noticed the tone.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I...yeah," Matew said, "I sort of have to tell you something. And I don't want any of the other guys to know..."

Veksai kept his expression calm, but inside his mind was whirling with possibilities. Did Matew screw something up with their lab? Did he accidently turn the dial on the phase distributer the wrong way and expose them both to a lethal dose of radiation? Was Veksai about to learn that either he or his lab partner had less than a week to live?

Or worse, was Matew about to confess his undying love?

Repressing a shudder, Veksai set down the padd with the report data.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I...sort of..." Matew gulped, "My girlfriend is pregnant,"

"Oh thank God," Veksai gave a sigh of relief.

"Wha..HEY!"

"No, sorry Matew, I meant..." Veksai stuttered, "It's just...wow. Pregnant. As in a baby."

"Four," Matew corrected, "Usually, with our species, it's four,"

"FOUR!?" Veksai calmed himself again, "That's...um. Geez. What are you going to do?"

The question seemed straightforward, but was laced with implications, some of them unpleasant.

"We're having the babies," Matew said quietly, "I'm getting permission from the DirCat to move into family quarters, Holi is moving from Fraco IV to Earth, and I'm going to try to finish off as much of my work as I can before the babies come."

"Glad to hear you've got it planned out," Veksai said.

"Just don't tell Cuirass or Hogpog," Matew said, "They...they'll make things harder,"

"Lips are sealed," Veksai vowed.

"STOP FLAPPING THOSE LIPS, LOWER!" a voice screamed out from outside the nearest window, "Keep those arms up! You're marching! You want the rest of the Academy to think you're nothing but a bag of spanners?"

Veksai and Matew looked around, quickly spotting the flight of lower-classmen and their associated SNAP staff.

"I almost forgot," Veksai shook his head, "SNAP started a couple days ago,"

"How could you forget? The lowers have been everywhere,"

"I guess I'd mostly tuned them out," Veksai shrugged, "Weird. SNAP used to be so important...now, compared to graduation and project work, it just doesn't seem to matter that much,"

The weeks passed, and SNAP continued as it had for the last two hundred years (and as it likely would for the next two hundred.) But to the senior-classmen it just wasn't the same. As lower-classmen they'd been subjected to SNAP. As junior-classmen it had been their job to protect the new lowers, sneaking them food and organizing the various fun Academy traditions that went with the program. And they'd practically climbed over each other to be the middle-classmen that would actually run SNAP, acting as mentors to the new lowers for the first semester (and carrying on unofficially for the second.) Now, as senior-classmen, SNAP just seemed a routine part of Academy life. Only the Squad Leaders actually played a part in the program. The rest of the senior-classmen were too busy with final design projects, studies, wrapping up graduation requirements or, in the case of the senior pipmen, administering their Sectors. Even M'kr'gr, who at least played a small role in SNAP by periodically inspecting the lower-classmen, was far too concerned with the junior, middle and senior-classmen in the Sector to really worry much about the lower-classmen. That was Verone's job, after all. Her and her middle-classman Team Leaders.

Still, that didn't mean that life as a senior-classman wasn't fun.

"Listen up, people," M'kr'gr said, addressing the gathered senior-classmen of Antares Sector, "Tomorrow will be the Survival Challenge Test Run. The design team has finished programming in this year's Challenge, and so it is our job to test it out and make sure everything works properly before the lowers run their challenge at the end of the week. Mr. Baxter will fill you in on the details,"

Silence. They looked around, but couldn't see Dylan anywhere.

M'kr'gr gave a quiet hiss.

"I will send you the details tonight," he corrected himself, "Suffice to say, it will be fun,"

"What do you want to bet it'll be mandatory," Igor grumbled.

"And it will be mandatory," M'kr'gr added.

"You called it," Veksai said quietly to Igor.

Despite the fun being mandatory, it was with more enthusiasm than annoyance that the senior-classmen gathered next to the Antares holo-patio the next day. Bizkit and Malespere had rarely been seen by the Sector, having become involved in Red Squad and Quadrant HQ respectively. Igor, Veksai, Gallium, Kumari, Quarterman, M'kr'gr, Kodene, Fastocheni, Bahred, Guthar and the rest were all itching to start, wearing the same Sector-coloured outfits they'd worn during their own Survival Challenge. The colours were faded, of course, given the beating they'd taken in the Challenge, and the passing of years had left most of the cadets a bit broader around the shoulders. (Or, in a couple cases, around the middle.) As he'd been the team captain back in the day, Malespere was running the group.

"OK, here's the scenario," Malespare said, reading from a padd, "Our runabout crashed, we've got to work our way to a hostile outpost and send the beam-up signal so we can be rescued. Not much different from the last few years. Ready? Let's go!"

The holo-patio activated, putting them in temperate woodlands. They grabbed their phaser rifles, armed only with training-level power packs of course, and started running.

They ran into the standard obstacles. Crossing a river via rope bridge, climbing a cliff wall, slogging through a swamp. A weird monkey-bar-like ravine crossing. And, of course, a simulated phaser battle against the unidentified aliens holding the target outpost. And they worked their way through well enough.

"Oh God, I'm getting old," Igor groaned as he hauled himself up the relatively small cliff wall, fingers wrapped around vines that just happened to be the same size and texture as ropes.

"You realize," Veksai panted, "that' you're still three years younger than I was when we ran this thing as lowers, right?"

"Shouldn't you be dead by now, then?"

Kodene, having slithered right up the cliff, reached down with two tentacles and hauled the bickering pair up.

"Let's go, people," Malespere called out, looking a little winded despite having kept up his fitness training, "Over halfway there!"

"I think we're all getting old," Quarterman groaned, "First it's panting and sweating, then the next thing you know, you're playing Bingo and drinking tea all day,"

"Oh, just wait until you hit 25," Veksai called back, "Then you can have a quarter-century crisis and do something stupid, like quitting your job, selling your possessions and joining Starfleet,"

"Not that you're bitter or anything," Gallium said.

"I'm not," Veksai said, "All through SNAP I kept telling myself, 'This is better than working for Dillon Enterprises'."

"Does that still work for you?" Gallium asked.

"Um...not as well as it used to. But yes, it still works,"

"Enough chatter people, we have a Survival Challenge to test," Malespere broke in.

There were key differences between the test run in senior year and the actual Survival Challenge. The Challenge had been about proving themselves to the Academy and to the rest of the Sector. They'd been working hard to make it through, and to do well. Now, three years later, they'd made it through the bulk of their Academy time. They (mostly) knew they could pass their classes with the right amount of effort, and many of the checkboxes on the road to graduation had already been ticked off. The test run was more about nostalgia; a fun way to start saying goodbye.

Finally, they reached the end of the course, staggered out of the holo-patio and collapsed on the nearby grass.

"Well, that was fun," Kumari said.

"That was fun," M'kr'gr agreed. He sighed, "But unfortunately, I have a meeting with the Lieutenant in half an hour. Just enough time for a shower and a protein shake,"

He pulled himself to his feet and started walked back towards Fort Hillier.

"Hey, wait up," Kumari called, jumping to her feet.

"Hmph," Veksai muttered, watching them go.

"What?" Gallium asked.

"Oh, I just thought Kumari had a thing for that Ross guy in Veltran Sector," Veksai said, Didn't think big green guys did it for her,"

"She doesn't." Gallium said, "What, didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"Like, the latest gossip and stuff,"

"Gallium, I don't have any patience for gossip. Or rumours. Or small-talk," Veksai rolled his eyes. Hint, hint.

"She's applying to be Sector Leader next semester," Gallium said, "She wants to take over his job when he's done,"

"Really? Good for her,"

"What about you?" Gallium asked, "You applying for anything?"

"Hell no," Veksai said, "I've done four pip positions already. I'm ready to sit back and let somebody else worry about that crap. I have enough on my plate with this final project,"

"Oh yeah. You're doing the...um...the sensor-masked communication thingy, right?"

"I think so," Veksai shrugged.

"Professor Kint tried to explain it to me," Guthar piped up, "But I have no idea what he was talking about,"

"Sounds like you guys have some work ahead of you," Gallium commented.

"No kidding,"

The Survival Challenge came and went without incident for the senior-classmen. Oh, there was drinking and debauchery at the End of SNAP party, the lower-classmen were integrated into their Sectors and became actual sentient beings as opposed to 'the lowers' and the Academy grounds no longer rang with the sound of the lower-classmen squads hailing whatever senior cadet happened to walk by. The new DirCat briefly experimented with a ban on weapons, including ceremonial blades, thus forcing all the Andorian cadets to switch to rubber weapons. A week long jihad by the Andorian Chess Club against the various flora and fauna of the Academy convinced her that messing with Andorian weapons wasn't a very good idea, and the policy was quickly reversed. The Andorians went back ensuring that the only things stabbed with their blades were other Andorians and everybody was happy again.

It was halfway through the semester when Veksai and Igor came back from classes to hear commotion in the hall.

"Nothing hung to standard," a voice was shouting, "Room's filthy and equipment hasn't been properly kept. When's the last time you were inspected?"

The shouting was coming from Kodene's room.

"Been awhile," the squid-alien said in its deep voice.

"Too long a while!" The instigator, one of the Quadrant Chief's, stormed out of Kodene's room and past Igor, "I'll be having words with your Sector Training Officer over this!"

Veksai and Igor just watched as the chief marched down the corridor towards Baxter's room. He banged on the door a few times, but there was no answer. Even more livid, he left.

"I am not worried," Kodene said to them, turning back to its room, "Dylan isn't going to do anything about it,"

With that, it closed its door.

"It has been a while since Baxter went through our rooms," Igor admitted.

"Well don't say anything," Quarterman said as she poker her head out of her room, "I've got my room just the way I like it, and I don't want any pipmen poking around in there!"

"Where is Dylan anyway?" Veksai wondered.

"In town, dragging some junior girl behind the bushes, passed out behind Scotty's, who knows?" Quaterman shrugged, "I haven't seen him much in class lately either."

"I guess that's why it's been pretty chill so far," Igor shrugged, "I mean, he's supposed to be in charge of discipline, so..."

"I guess," Veksai said, "But...y'know...we've got the DirCat inspection coming up in a couple weeks. We're going to be caught with our pants down,"

"I don't care," Quarterman said, going back into her room, "More scenery that way anyway,"

Christmas was rapidly approaching, and with it the year's first round of final exams. But before they could even begin to worry about that, Guthar and Veksai had to submit a prototype design of their final project. It was ridiculous to expect a functional prototype after only a couple of months, and Professor Kint knew that, but he wanted to see at least a feasible (and properly documented) design finished before everybody started focusing on exams.

Anyway, the current result was Veksai and Guthar staring at a screen flatly informing them that what they were trying to do wasn't going to work.

"OK, so I guess we can't pass the analysis workload between bio-neural and isolinear circuitry the way we wanted to," Veksai sighed.

"Not without conversions each way," Guthar agreed, chewing his lip, "And that slows us down far more than sticking with one or the other,"

There was a beep, and Guthar pulled out his pocket communicator. Another message from his girlfriend.

"What part of 'I have to finish this tonight' isn't getting through," he grumbled, sending back a reply.

"We may as well call it quits for today," Veksai stretched, "I have some ideas on how we can tweak this to work with pure bioneural. And if we do that, then we can see if we can get independent processing on both systems, maybe divide up the workload,"

"Pure bio-neural? You mean getting rid of the old database-style repository?" Guthar finished his reply message and put his phone away, "I thought you didn't want to figure out the bio-neural memory system,"

"I don't. But I don't think we can make this work otherwise. Not to the speed specs the prof wants, anyway."

Guthar paused.

"I've been thinking," he said, "We can't both be programming this at the same time,"

"No,"

"And if we're going to make this work, we need something we can test it against,"

"Yes,"

"So why don't I start working on the testing side of things while you keep going with the core software?" Guthar suggested.

Veksai nodded.

"Excellent idea," he agreed. They looked at each other for a moment.

"Now I just have to figure out how to make the main system work," Veksai said glumly.

"And I just have to figure out how to build a testing protocol," Guthar's shoulders slumped.

"So much for getting out of here before sundown," Veksai turned back to the computer.

"And so much for my date," Guthar said, pulling out his communicator. And possibly my relationship, he added silently.

Two weeks later, Gallium was practically skipping down the halls of Fort Hillier. He waved a hand in front of his face...Roger was shedding spores again. Somebody was going to have to clean the air filters. But that couldn't damper his spirits.

Ahead of him, Guthar and Veksai stepped out of the stairwell, Guthar gripping a single padd like his life depended on it.

"What's that?" Gallium asked cheerfully.

"Our project design prototype," Veksai said tiredly, "Finally. Which means now we just have to survive a round of exams, then we can take a well-deserved holiday,"

"I'm handing this in first thing tomorrow," Guthar said, waving the padd.

"Y'know, now that you've said that, something terrible is going to happen to the padd, like it'll get stolen, or wet, or something," Gallium bubbled, "And you'll have to panic to get it in on time! Y'know, like in the movies. Or stories."

"This isn't a stupid movie, Gallium," Veksai said irritably, "We already transmitted the designs to our prof. He just wants a hard copy as well."

"That's boring," Gallium said.

"That's life," Veksai grumbled, "What, you want some giant alien to attack and the rest of the fleet to be conveniently unable to stop it, so that us cadets have to rise up and show how great we are, even though we're a pack of barely trained infants? Or perhaps you'd like a serial killer to start striking down random people, forcing one of us to show his skills as an investigator, because of course Planetary Security will be unable or unwilling to take care of things themselves. Yeah. Very realistic."

Guthar and Gallium just sort of stared at him.

"Sounds like somebody has a bug up his ass," Fastocheni said, passing by the small group.

"Hey, Fast, guess what!" Gallium started bubbling again, "I got my approvals! I'm graduating as soon as winter exams are done!"

Something flickered over Fast's face.

"That's great, Gallium," he said, smiling.

"You guys wanna come to Scotty's for a beer?" Gallium asked, "I feel like celebrating!"

"Yeah, I can go for that," Veksai decided, "We did just hit a big project milestone, after all,"

"We did," Guthar agreed, "We deserve a break."

"A few exams, another semester and we're all out of here!" Veksai added.

"I, uh...I've got a lot of work to do," Fast said. He turned before they could ask anything and went back to his room.

"You know," he heard Gallium saying, "Hardly anybody has applied for the Training Officer position next semester. If your project is going well, you should do it. You're one of those tight-assed, disciplined types."

"Over my dead body," Veksai replied, "I have other work to do,"

As the door closed, Fast took a deep breath and let it out. His fencing epee was hanging off one bedpost, and the bag containing all his gear was open in the middle of the floor. He'd become a veritable stranger in the Sector barracks over the past two years as his involvement with the Academy fencing team had deepened. Being a calmer, more thoughtful individual than Malespere or Bizkit, he didn't tend to stand out as much. On top of that, the fencing team pretty much went their own way and did their own thing, competing against other schools or teams on Earth or in nearby star systems. Unlike Red Squad, they didn't feel the need to force their members to live together in a separate barracks, pull ridiculous stunts across the Academy or generally behave like the rest of the Academy was beneath them. So rather than being resented, the more involved members of the fencing team just tended to fade from notice.

Which was why none of Fast's friends in the Sector knew that he might not be graduating with them.

He'd known he was in trouble for over a year, when he'd flunked his Subspace Theory course. It was his own fault, and he knew it. He, like so many athletes before him, let his sport take over too much of his attention. As he'd been more and more concerned with getting his form just right, his academics had started to slip. And unfortunately, one had slipped just a bit too low. Having to re-take that class was bad enough, but it had turned out to have repercussions he hadn't expected. He'd found that out when he'd been handed his timetable for his first semester of his middle year.

"Ma'am?" he'd said, speaking to the clerk, "I think there's a mistake. I need to take Communications 302 and Warp Navigation 365 this year. They're not on my schedule,"

"Let me see," she'd said, snatching the padd out of his hands without a moment's thought. She looked at it, over to her computer, then back again. This went on for several minutes.

"You're taking Subspace Theory this semester," she'd said, "Again."

"Well...yeah," Fast had admitted quietly.

"You can't take Comms or Nav without having Subspace theory," she'd said, "You'll have to take them next year,"

"But...can I finish my degree?"

"Probably not," she'd shrugged, "You're now on a five year...oh. Oops. Your Sector Commander hasn't noted that you've had your little meeting with him on this yet. Sorry kid, didn't mean to be the one to spill the news,"

"Oh," was all Fast could say.

Sure enough, the Sector Commander had pulled him aside the next day and explained that he'd be graduating a year late, if at all.

Fast had not been satisfied with that.

He'd managed to pass Subspace Theory and squeeze his way onto a second semester Comms 302 course. But now he was spending his first semester of senior-year trying to juggle Warp Navigation on top of his other classes and his thesis write-up. And he was struggling.

So naturally he didn't want to hear about Gallium and his early graduation.

His alarm chimed, reminding him that practice started in half an hour. He glanced over at the display board near his desk.

'Vulcan Sociology Assignment Due,' the screen read, '2 days remaining,'

Two days. Two days was plenty. He turned towards the bag.

But if he had Sociology done, he could spend some extra time on his Nav assignment and maybe pull his average out of the red zone.

He turned back to his desk.

But Nav wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be. He could figure out the assignment fairly quickly.

Back to his fencing gear.

But tonight was just a practice, and there would be another one Saturday anyway, when he had more time.

With a sign and a mental apology to his coach, Fast sat as his desk and pulled out his work padd.

He was going to graduate this year, or implode his brains trying.

"BAXTER!?" M'kr'gr shouted, poking his head into the men's shower, "Are you in here? You are LATE for a meeting with the Quadrant Chief! And he is PISSED!"

"It's...just...me..." Roger wheezed, the mould alien in the bathtub.

"ARRRGGGHHHHH!" M'kr'gr growled loudly, barely restraining himself from putting a fist through a wall, "I have looked EVERYWHERE for that ass!"

"Have you...tried looking...for the rest...of him?" Roger asked.

M'kr'gr couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, Roger," he said, stepping into the shower room and sitting on the edge of the tub, "I've looked all over campus. He hasn't been handing in his Training Officer reports, the Sector and Team leaders are running their own inspections and getting their people ready for the DirCat inspection, which is his job, and Sector discipline is...well, it's not as bad as it could be. But it could be better,"

"It sounds...like he...is not doing...his job..." Roger remarked.

"He's not,"

"Why has...he not...been punished?"

"I...none of the officers have really noticed yet," M'kr'gr admitted, "The rest of us have covered for him,"

"So he is...causing you problems...and yet you...do him...a favour?"

"It's called 'loyalty', Roger," M'kr'gr said quietly.

"And when...your leader primates...realize?"

"The Sector Commander knows we're having a few problems," M'kr'gr admitted, "But she does not know their full extent."

"If there is...one thing...I have learned...from watching you all...these past few years..." Roger wheezed, "It is that...very little...stays secret..."

M'kr'gr couldn't argue

Kumari was in the middle of an argument with Derok when M'kr'gr found her.

"I know, Derok," she was saying, "But if you go with a summer wedding, nobody from the Academy can come. We'll be shipping out late two days after graduation!"

"But we-"

"Excuse us," M'kr'gr said, pulling Kumari away.

"Did you hear?" Derock said, "I'm engaged!"

"Excellent. I am truly happy for you," M'kr'gr said, stopping long enough to attempt to shake Derok's hand in the human custom. Derok, perhaps remembering some of M'kr'gr's earlier, disastrous attempts at handshaking, was careful to check that his claws were retracted first.

"I guess we gotta talk about...something!" Kumari chuckled, giving M'kr'gr a worried glance before allowing herself to be hauled off.

"What was THAT all about?" she demanded the second the door closed.

"We need a backup plan," he said bluntly. He explained his conversation with Roger.

"I'm not willing to toss Dylan under the tram just yet," M'kr'gr said, "But at the very least, I don't think the Lieutenant will give him a passing mark on his pip position. At the very worst...well...does anybody know what he's actually been doing this semester?"

"I've heard he's been in San Francisco a lot, partying it up with the Federation University guys," Kumari said.

"FU," M'kr'gr shoot his head in disgust, "Undisciplined, lazy and soft,"

Kumari was quiet for a moment.

"OK, so he fails his pips," she finally said, "But so what. The semester is almost over, he hasn't done any of the work he's supposed to do, but he's got a replacement coming in next semester anyway. So big deal,"

"I don't think you realize how much harder my job has been without him," M'kr'gr said, taking a seat, "especially with all my schoolwork. The Sector Leader sets the tone for the Sector, passes orders and co-ordinates the Sector Headquarters and the Squads. The Training Officer is supposed to handle the details of discipline, dress, and deportment...everything that puts the 'military 'in 'paramilitary'! Without Dylan doing his job, the Squad Leaders and I have been working to handle those issues. It has not worked well."

Kumari figured it out.

"I can't afford another Dylan," she said, "But nobody's applied for the position!"

"Which means we can select somebody," M'Kr'gr pointed out, "And assign them to the position,"

"But if they don't want the position, what going to stop them from doing a shitty job?" Kumari groaned. Not very fitting talk for a princess, but the poor girl had been at the Academy for a while after all.

"That's why we have to pick somebody who won't do a shitty job," M'kr'gr said.

"Yeah, I could do it," Quarterman said, "Y'know, if it keeps the rest of you from going through my room every week,"

M'Kr'gr started grinding his teeth.

"Thank you," he managed to say politely, "we'll call you,"

"Naw, sorry," Malespere shook his head, "I'm totally applying for Brute Squad Leader. Somebody's gotta show those lowers how it's done,"

"Red Squad," Bizkit said before M'Kr'gr could open his mouth.

"Second semester is egg-sack season," Kodene said, lifting one tentacle and revealing what looked like a bunch of grapes underneath.

"Not gonna be here!" Gallium danced.

"I really can't," Fast shook his head, "I'm sorry, Kr'gr. I really have a lot of work to do,"

"Nope," Veksai said the second M'Kr'gr's head appeared in his doorway.

"Why not?"

"I have a lot of work to do,"

"You could handle it just fine,"

Veksai moved away from his desk.

"Maybe," he said, "But I don't want to. It's going to be my last semester at the Academy. I don't want to spend it racing around in a panic because I've taken on too much,"

"Well, that was sort of a flop," Kumari mused.

"You weren't even there," M'Kr'gr flicked out his tongue.

"Nobody knows I've been chosen as the next Sector Leader," she reminded him, "They just think I've applied. Otherwise I would have gone with you."

"It will be announced soon," he said, "Along with the rest of the pipmen for next semester."

"We don't KNOW all the pipmen for next semester yet!"

"But I think I know who you want in STO role," he crossed his arms.

"Yes," Kumari admitted, "But the thing is convincing him to do it,"

"I know just how,"

Veksai found himself seated across from Kumari and M'Kr'gr at breakfast the next morning. After about ten minutes of random small-talk, Kumari go to the point.

"I think you'd be a good Training Officer," she said, "Look at what happened this year. The Chiefs are pissed, people aren't getting the timings and parade information they're supposed to be getting on time, room standards are terrible and B'Kar bred turtles for six weeks without so much as a slap on the wrist!"

"We've got nearly twenty senior-classmen," Veksai pointed out, "I'm sure somebody will be happy to take care of things,"

"Like who?" M'Kr'gr asked, "Me? I can't afford another pip position. My studies are a mess already. This semester's Squad Leaders? Same story. Nobody wants the Training Officer job,"

"That's because being the Training Officer means that a lot of people are going to hate you," Veksai said, "Slapping their wrists is basically your whole job,"

"Do you really care how much people like you?" Kumari asked.

"Nobody likes being the bad guy," Veksai said, "

"But you could do it," Kumari said. It was time for the killer point. "And if you don't, then they'll have to shaft some random person with the job. And you know how well people usually work when they're forced into a job,"

Veksai didn't say anything.

"Anyway, I have class," Kumari rose with her tray, "And if I don't figure out how to create an inverse tachyon pulse by lunch time my weekend is history,"

"Just don't create three of them,1" M'Kr'gr said, also rising, "I've heard its bad luck."

"I'll do it if you can't find anybody else," Veksai finally said as they turned to leave.

"Very glad to hear that," Kumari smiled.

They left.

"I am so screwed," Veksai muttered to himself.

The pip positions were announced, the Academy kicked into final preparations for exams and Veksai found himself abruptly summoned to the Sector Commander's officer.

"Mr. Veksai," the new SC, Lieutenant Carter, greeted him warmly, "We haven't had a chance to talk this semester,"

"Lots of project work, ma'am," he said pleasantly.

"Yes, I've heard. But I've been making sure that everybody in senior year has all their qualifications in place for commissioning next spring," she smiled, "Five months away. Excited?"

"I'm sure everybody is," he said.

Carter nodded. She glanced at a checklist, "But your qualifications are in order. Training at Jupiter Station after the Academy?"

"Along with everybody else in my program, ma'am," he nodded, "But I think we're the only ones. Every other program has their own training programs before they assign us to a ship,"

"Hmmm." Carter became grim, "Yes, your degree and commission here are very important. But you still have a lot to learn." She paused again. "Those of you that graduate anyway,"

"Ma'am?"

"Cadet Baxter has been removed from his pip position," she said bluntly, "There have been irregularities in his...behaviour...this semester. We will get to the bottom of them, then decide whether or not he will graduate. Until then, you will be filling in for him as Sector Training Officer...you're taking over after the holidays anyway."

She had the grace to look apologetic as she handed him a padd.

"I'm afraid there are a few issues we need to clear up before the end of the semester."

Veksai felt his eyes bugging out as he read the list of reports and incidents that had remained unaddressed.

"Let's set up a meeting later this week to get started," she said gently, "Dismissed,"

Outside, Veksai found Kumari waiting.

"You know about Dylan," he said to her. It wasn't a question.

She nodded.

"Bit of a mess," he said.

"It's OK," she shrugged, "We've got all next semester to figure things out.

End

Next: It's the homestretch to graduation, with only one last round of exams standing between them and graduation. Like playing Hangman on the last day of school, the final story of Star Traks: Crash Course offers one last run of fun before class is finally dismissed.

1 TNG "All Good Things" reference. Anybody? Anybody? sigh...I am a geek.


	15. Year 4 - Final Sprint

Copyright 2011

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Crash Course

4.2 – "Homestretch – Part 2"

Side A: Final Sprint

"You are hereby promoted to the rank of Ensign, with all the privileges and responsibilities of an officer in the fleet," Rear Admiral Amouren, Commandant of Starfleet Academy said as he presented Ensign Gel Gallium with his commissioning scroll. Several of the middle and senior-classmen of Antares Sector started to applaud, having gathered in the Memorial Hall of Khitomer Building to witness Gallium's early graduation. Gallium's father, First Officer of the USS Klien, beamed proudly as his son received his pips and a new, standard-issue comm-badge to replace the Academy version.

As they watched, Steven Veksai shook his head.

"I'm happy for him, really," he said, "But...next semester is our last chance to enjoy being students. I missed out the last time I went to college because I spent too much time working. I WANT that proper graduation parade,"

"Me too," Fastocheni said beside him.

"Wha...oh. Shit, man. I'm sorry," Veksai cringed. Fast had been struggling to actually graduate on time after having trouble with one his classes. He hadn't meant to strike a nerve.

"Don't worry about it," now Fast was beaming, "I got some of my exam results from this semester back a little early...and I'll be on that Parade Ring with the rest of you!"

"That's great!" Veksai grinned, "You must be relieved, right?"

"You have no idea. Now we just have to wrap up one, last semester and we're good to go,"

"Seven down," Veksai nodded, "One to go."

Two months later...

"Professional Development tomorrow morning for senior-classmen will be a briefing on Fourth Fleet activities over the past year with Fleet Admiral Ra'al," Sector Leader Akavarti Kumari said to the gathered Sector pipmen, "Middle-classmen have Captain Smith on new Starbases being opened in the upcoming year, juniors are with the DirCat to be lectured on their latest round of stupidity, and the lowers have a Leadership lecture with a Captain Andy Baxter. Um, there's a note here that if anybody gets the bright idea of locking him in a shuttlepod the entire lower-year class will be wearing Class-D uniforms for the next month ,"

"What a lucky family they are," Squad Leader Ganderouge remarked coldly.

"Hey, I don't even want to go there," Kumari cut her off sharply. Ganderouge gave her an angry look, but said nothing. "Where was I? Oh yes. Thursday morning is Squad Leader time, so whatever you've got planned, go for it. And Friday morning is free."

"Not for the lowers it isn't," Malespere smirked, "They're learning how to give briefings,"

"Does anybody else have anything to pass on?"

There was a collective holding of breaths as the Squad Leaders, deputy Sector Leader, Sector Administrator and Kumari hoped that maybe, just maybe this week's Sector HQ meeting would be different. Maybe this week everything would have been nice and quiet, and the various cadets of the Sector had done exactly what was expected of them.

"I have stuff to pass on," Veksai spoke up, pulling out a padd. The collective holding of breath was released in a collective groan. It had been over a month since the new semester had started, and if they were sure of one thing it was that the Sector was still recovering from Dylan's negligence. Veksai's job as Sector Training Officer, inherited from Dylan, was to enforce discipline, proper behaviour and to basically put the 'military' in 'paramilitary organization'. After a semester of basically having free reign, having an STO who was actually doing his job was coming as a shock to certain members of the Sector.

"Igor, Malespere, I still have people from both of your Squads that missed class last week, they need to go on report," Veksai started reading, "And I'm still waiting for all three of you to finish the paperwork on everybody that skipped class last semester,"

"There was like twenty reports to fill out!" Igor exclaimed.

"I know," Veksai rolled his eyes, "But somebody, not mentioning any names, royally screwed up the reporting last semester. Umm...what else? The Academy Training Officer wants Quadrant-level inspections held next week,

"That's going to take hours!" Igor objected.

"Apparently they have a plan to keep it short," Veksai said, not sounding all that confident.

"That I'd like to see," Igor sighed.

"We'll try. What else...the Quadrant Chief checked Mr. Pwall and Mr. Wronski's room the other day and says, quote, 'Straighten that room out before I have to have the hazmat team come in and do it for them'. His version had more profanity. B'kar was caught swinging from the trees in the Xeno-biology lab, and Mr. Labal was wearing a non-regulation belt,"

"You've got to be kidding me," Ganderouge crossed her arms, "They actually checked his belt?"

"Don't look at me, I'm just the messenger," Veksai raised his hands, "This is the stuff that came down from the ATO and the Chief."

"Anything else? Kumari looked around the room. This time there was no reply.

"Dismissed," she said.

As the others dispersed, Kumari and Veksai lingered.

"I don't know what the hell Comel is thinking," Veksai fumed, referring to the Academy Training Officer, another senior-classman cadet, "the Commandant's inspection isn't for three more weeks. You and I have it worked out so we can do a Sector inspection in half an hour. We don't need him barging in and sticking his fingers in our business!"

"It'll be over quickly. By the way, the SecCom wants to see you later. There are a couple of...new issues...you need to be aware of,"

"Oh great. What is it this time? Was somebody caught f**king on the roof of the Spock Library? Did Petalszan get into another bar fight? Oh, even better, was somebody trying to reprogram the replicator to churn out Romulan Ale?"

"Well, it's one of those. But I can't tell you which one," Kumari said.

Veksai sighed.

"I can't belief how calm you are about some of the stupid stuff that happens here," he said, "I mean, I know it's still a university, and university students do dumb shit. But between the students themselves and some of the RETARDED decisions made by the senior pipmen, I'm about ready to beam somebody into space!"

"And that's why I'm the Sector Leader and you're the Training Officer," Kumari smiled, "I can stay calm because I know you're taking care of the wrath and rage. That's part of why we make a good team,"

"We do, don't we?" Veksai smiled back. "Anyway, I've got to meet Guthar in the Bio-Neural lab. We've almost ready to start testing our project. Presentations are in just over a month!"

"Have fun,"

It wasn't only Antares Sector that was having adjustment issues, as it turned out.

M'kr'gr was wandering the halls of Fort Archer, one of the many dormitories on campus. He was no longer a Sector Leader, which was something of a relief. His schoolwork had gone completely to shit, what with all the time he'd had to spend doing not only his own duties, but Dylan Baxter's as well. Granted, he wasn't exactly hard at work studying at the moment, but at least this was temporary. It was his turn to be Academy Duty Officer.

Unlike active starships which had personnel manning stations 24/7 or active starbases that stayed on a 24, 26 or 29.35 hour clock (depending on their host planet), the Academy effectively shut down for the night. Professors, whether civilian or Starfleet, had their own lives and generally lived in the city of San Francisco, or at least close enough to get to work via a quick tram ride. The fitness staff, technicians and other support staff likewise vanished after their work was done. That said, the Academy was still a sensitive installation, and security staff were always on duty. But even with a full time staff of security personnel, somebody still had to babysit the thousands of cadets, track any notable (read 'stupid') incidents and respond to other issues. And for that, the Academy had a Duty Program. The lower-classmen of course manned the security rooms in their individual dorms, with junior- and mid-classmen taking on more responsibility. Finally, the senior-classmen rotated through the task of Duty Officer, basically taking responsibility for the entire campus for the night.

And M'kr'gr was...well, loving it wasn't exactly right. He'd had to endure an early morning handover meeting, something of a pain. And instead of going back to his room at the end of the school day to tackle his mountain of homework, he had reported to the Duty Room at the base of Khitomer building to brief the junior-classmen that would be acting as Quadrant Guards for the night. Now, however, he was simply doing his rounds. Walking from dorm to dorm, through every hallway on every floor. He passed lower-classmen squads undergoing uniform inspections, no doubt due to some sort of foul-up on their part. He passed junior-classmen clowning around in their Sector lounge, watching the viewscreen and eating various species-specific snacks. Walking through the Vulcan Sector lines in Fort T'Pol he even found a number of cadets hunched over their desks, diligently working on their homework.

So as he walked through the quieting halls of Fort Archer, he allowed himself a contented sigh. So far, everything on campus was going well. Cadets saw him passing in the hallway, noted that he was dressed in his Class-D uniform, realized that he was on-duty and promptly ignored him. Or, possibly, quickly hid any contraband they might have had before he had the chance to see it.

Not that he really cared. Contraband regulations, like so many rules, had to be taken with a grain of salt. Sure, if somebody plastered Risan pornography all over the wall there would be a major discipline issue. (And if it was Andorian pornography, probably a few cases of indigestion and nausea as well.) But if said somebody wanted to enjoy a 'private moment' in their own room with the door closed, it was none of his business.

In any event, he'd seen no sign of contraband, no illicit activities, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. He gave a small smile. Tonight, this was HIS Academy. He may not own it, but he was responsible for it. Anything that happened here tonight would go through him, and he would be the one answering to the DirCat the next day.

Finally, he found himself stepping into Fort Angrigon, home to Rofs Sector and Quebec Sector1. Once again, he started at the top floor and began working his way down. And once again, he didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary.

He reached the lower level and turned a corner into the Quebec Sector lounge. Nearly a dozen cadets were gathered on sofas around the viewscreen, playing a video game he didn't recognize. A discreet tone from his Universal Translater informed him that the dominant language had switched, though of course he only heard them speaking Parian thanks to the small device.

He frowned. Something in the room was off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it...maybe it was the way the two cadets nearest him seemed to suddenly look away as soon as his attention came to bear. Maybe it was the way the two playing the game seemed to purposefully ignore him.

Or maybe it was the faint smell in the air. Not quite ale. More like...

More like a very strong beer he'd once sampled on a trip up to the northern half of North America.

He stepped over to the nearest coffee table, picked up one of the half full cups and sniffed it, noticing the immediate look of guilt on the nearest cadets.

Yup. Beer. And far stronger than anything you'd find at Scotty's.

He stormed over to the viewscreen and hit the cut-off button.

"You must," he growled, "Be joking. Not only are you breaching Academy regs by drinking alcohol in the dorms – alcohol, not even synthohol! But you are doing it here, in the lounge. In plain sight. Where ANYBODY can see you?"

No reply.

"How stupid can you be?!" M'kr'gr demanded, unaware that his claws were easing out of their finger-sheaths, "What if I'd been the duty security officer? You would all be dragged in front of a review board! What idiots!"

Still nothing.

"Don't you have ANYTHING to say for yourselves?"

A pause.

"Are you planning to kill us?" one cadet asked quietly, in heavily accented Standard.

"Huh?"

M'kr'gr looked down and noticed that his claws were out. On top of that, his fang teeth had been on prominent display with every word he'd spoken.

He cleared his throat.

"No, I'm not planning on killing you. But I will be reporting this to your Sector,"

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off to find the Quebec Sector Training Officer.

The next day, he was relating the event to Fastocheni, his former roommate.

"I don't like being the bad guy," he said, shaking his head, "I mean, yes, I like the idea of bringing terror to my enemies and destroying all those who oppose the Federation. However I do not like getting our own people into trouble. And as odd as they may be sometimes, Quebec Sector are still our own."

"What else could you do?" Fast shrugged.

"I could have just ignored the smell," M'kr'gr said, "I could have written it up to my imagination and gone on my way."

"So why didn't you?"

M'kr'gr thought for a moment.

"Before I was a Section Leader, I may have done that," he said, "But after last semester...after seeing things from the upper side of the chain of command...and after seeing what happened when Dylan started ignoring what was going on around him..." he shook his head, "I just couldn't."

"I guess that's one of the things they want us to learn here," Fast said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Apparently."

"This is it," Veksai said, sitting next to Guthar in the Bio-Neural Research Lab in the Samual Anders Neuroscience building2. "If this works, then all that's left to do is a few minor tweaks, a week or two to add the last bits of functionality and we're done,"

"Don't forget the report," Guthar added, "And the presentation to the Project Review Board,"

"I was trying to forget those parts, actually," Veksai sighed, "But yes. Those too,"

They were sitting in the same lab they'd been using for nearly a semester and a half now. Several workstations lined the walls of the oval room, with large display screens showing lines of code, linked structures of data object hierarchies and various reference guides. (Galactic Google was open on several screens, showing details on neural programming.) In the center of the far wall was a large, bubbling tank. Inside, strands of bio-neural circuitry hung suspended in the liquid, the living brain tissue pulsing gently as nutrient fluids were forced through feeding tubes. The setup was less compact and more elaborate that the small gel-packs found in newer starships, but the lab was intended for research and experimentation. Next to the tank was a small but heavy hammer and a sign that read 'In Case of Sentience and/or Homicidal Dialogue, Break Glass!'

"Hit the button already!" Guthar urged.

Bracing himself, Veksai reached for the 'Execute' button. This was it. Months of design work, coding and preparation had gone into this moment. They'd tested each component of their software as it had been completed, following proper engineering practices. But this was the first time the whole system would work together, feeding incoming sensor data into several different neural nets where it could be analyzed independently for...well, hostile tampering best described it without getting too convoluted.

Veksai hit the button.

Two screens abruptly shifted, showing lines and lines of sensor data as it was fed into the system, too fast for the eye to follow. Two more screens broke into multiple views, representing the various virtual components of the system while two more configured themselves to show the results.

Nothing was coming up on the last two screens.

"Shit," Guthar observed.

"No kidding," Veksai grumbled. They looked over at the component display. Guthar tapped a few buttons, then one of the components turned red.

"Sequencing issue," he reported.

"Crap," Veksai let his head fall to the console with a soft 'thud', "I thought we'd fixed that,"

"Me too,"

"So much for going to town today,"

They looked over at the tissue tank, then sighed.

"Stupid disembodied brain," Guthar glared.

"What's up, Mr. Veksai?"

They turned to see one of the new Brute Squad lower-classmen, Cadet Prent, standing in the door to the lab.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Veksai demanded, "This is a restricted level!"

"Oh, one of the other seniors let me in," Prent said, suddenly looking nervous, "Um...my Squad Leader told me to talk to you about the parade assignments for next week?"

Veksai looked at Prent, then over to the neural tissue bubbling in the tank, then over to the error message blinking over the diagram of the sequencing software.

"This isn't exactly a good time, kiddo," he said.

"Really? Whatcha doing?" Prent asked, stepping into the room.

"We're trying to get brain-in-a-jar here to analyze sensor readings for signs somebody is co-opting the sensor beams to feed back a hidden signal," Guthar said.

"Do what to the who now?" Prent wondered.

"Don't worry about it," Veksai said, "Look, just...come see me in Fort Hillier later tonight, OK? We've got to get back to work. And stay out of the restricted sections!"

"Yes, Mr. Veksai,"

As Prent left, Veksai shuddred.

"I hate it when they call me 'Mister'," he complained, "It just makes me feel...old."

"You are old," Guthar pointed out.

"Hey, shut up,"

"But Prent is a good guy," he said, "Most of the new lowers are,"

"I know," Veksai agreed, "Prent's in the same computer systems engineering stream as us. And Icrus and Sutharn are just hilarious. But they're so young!"

"I know! Even I see that,"

"It's too bad we won't really get to know any of them before we leave," Veksai mused, pulling up the code for the sequencer, "But I guess I see what they meant when they said that the senior-classmen didn't really care about the lowers. No, that's not really true. We just don't have the time to really know them very well,"

"We'll run into them again later," Guthar said, "After graduation,"

"Yeah, you're probably right," Veksai stared at the screen, "Hey, here's the problem. Let's just...there!"

He hit the buttons to recompile and execute the code. This time, the final two screens lit up with results of the analysis.

They both fell back in their seats, letting out relieved breaths.

"And that's that," Veksai said, "Our final design project works! All that's left now is some tweaking, more testing...and about two hundred pages of documentation,"

"Hurray!" Guthar replied.

If idle hands were the devil's plaything, then the senior-classmen should have been positively angelic. And yet, it didn't seem like anything was really happening. The annual exchange with the Imperial Klingon Academy took place, as it had since the signing of the peace treaty, and only two cadets suffered accidental amputations at the hands of Klingon cadets with more desire to show off than they had skill with a bat'leth. Veksai and Kumari took part in the exchange as members of the Andorian water-polo team and Rigellian Interpretive Dance Group respectively, but when all was said and done the whole experience could be summed up with the phrase 'Wow, I'm sure glad I don't go to THAT school!'. M'kr'gr and the rest of the seniors going into the security field spent several weekends on Mars learning the basics of low-gee combat training, Derok and the xeno-politics students were invited to attend a session of the Federation Council and a minor accident in the Experimental Teleportation Lab accidently opened a rip into an alternate universe until one of the professors was able to get things under control.

All in all, a fairly uneventful semester in the grander scheme of things. Which isn't to say that the senior class was bored.

"I swear to God, if I have to have one more junior-classman put on report because they can't keep their rooms to standard, I'm just going to make it RAIN extra duty!" Veksai cursed, sitting at his desk and glaring at the notes he'd made during the latest inspection, "It's ridiculous; even the lower-classmen are doing a better job of meeting the standard!"

"That's because Malespere, like, rapes them if they get out of line," Igor said blandly from the door.

"He doesn't rape them, he just harps on every little detail," Veksai replied, "Which...actually...good on him. I thought he was going to be an absolutely terrible Squad Leader."

"But you know it's all just about making himself look good to the Quadrant Commander,"

"Yes, yes I do. But it's making my life easier, so all the power to him,"

"He's, like, making them give briefings at 0600h! I know everybody has to give at least one briefing before graduation, but it's kinda early!"

"I know," Veksai sighed, "But he's convinced that now is the time. And really, he's only doing it during Squad Leader mornings. So he's well within his rights,"

"I still think it's a bad idea."

"I agree. But we only have so much...influence...on the Squad Leaders and their leadership styles," Veksai paused, then chuckled, "Geez, it's like we're turning into officers or something!"

"Scary," Igor agreed. There was a soft knock at the door, then Kumari poked her head in.

"Got a second?" she asked.

"For you, my dear, I have entire minutes," Veksai replied, his voice oozing with fake charm.

"Uh huh," Kumari smirked. Veksai's odd sense of humour wasn't exactly new to her, "I think a few seconds will work just fine,"

"I'll just...go...water my phaser..." Igor said, shuffling out of the room.

"What's up?" Veksai asked.

"All ready for exams next week?" she asked, deflecting the question.

"Yeah," he said, "Can't believe it's been nearly four months already,"

"Time flies when you're having a good time," Kumari joked.

"Hmm. Your parents coming to the Commissioning?"

"They are," Kumari bit her lip, "Father...I sent father some holos from the Holiday Ball. I think it's really sinking in that I won't be coming back to the throne for a long time,"

Veksai had forgotten that Kumari had come from royalty. During their lower year, she'd practically reeked of spoiled princess. Well, that wasn't fair. But she'd been accustomed to a certain amount of subservience in the people around her. But the Academy had cured her of that in a hurry.

"My parents aren't sure if they can make it," Veksai said, "It's...well, it's a busy time at home,"

"Oh," Kumari was quiet for a moment, "Worried about your exams?"

"Naw. We've written what...forty exams in the last four years? What's five more? You?"

"Worried about Hull Strength," Kumari said, "The course made sense when it was just the strength of the materials involved, but once they brought structural integrity fields and inertial dampening in, I got lost,"

"Glad I'm not doing that,"

"I saw your project presentation," Kumari laughed dryly, "I'd rather have SIF/IDF equations instead of bio-neural programming!"

There was quiet for another moment.

"Those the FURs for the SecCom?" Kumari asked, pointing to a pile of padds.

"Yeah, Kodene dropped off the ones from his squad half an hour ago," Veksai said, handing over the weekly pile of Fuck-Up Reports. (Not an official acronym.)

"Smaller than usual," Kumari remarked.

"That's because we're not dealing with the leftover crap from last semester," Veksai grumbled, "Just the ordinary crap from this semester. I never realized just how often people got in shit here...or the documentation behind it! I guess it's just not really advertised."

He tossed the report he was working on back on the desk.

"It's like we've barely started to accomplish anything," he said, "We've been...well, you've been running the squadron all semester and I've been helping. And just when it looks like we might be about to make progress, it's going to get handed off to a pair of middle-classmen going into senior year, and they get to start the whole learning process all over again,"

"That's the whole point of the pipman process," Kumari pointed out.

"I know. I just...wish we could have done better,"

"Hey," she said, "We did great. Captain Carter has nothing but good things to say about our work, and I know...well, I couldn't have made it through the semester without you,"

Veksai smiled, remember again what Kumari had been like in lower year. Or, more accurately, what he'd thought she had been like. He remembered how young she looked...how young everybody else had looked. At the time, he'd found it hard to believe that in only four years those kids would be commissioned officers in the fleet. Now, seeing the changes in M'kr'gr, Kumari, Igor and most of the others, his early opinions seemed more than just a bit condescending. Sure, when they got to the fleet they were all going to be regarded as wet-behind-the-ears junior officers...but they'd come a long way.

"Anyway, I should go take these to the Lieutenant," she said, gathering the FURs again, "See you later,"

"Yeah," Veksai said absently, "Later..."

Exams came. Exams went. If there were last minute meltdowns resulting in some poor senior-classman having to repeat a year, Antares Sector didn't know about it. For most of the Academy, the drudgery of another two weeks of study, eat, study, sleep, study, write exam, repeat as needed was just that...repetitive drudgery. As always, it was an improvement over daily Academy life, as nobody had any tasks or responsibilities other than writing exams, but there was still the sense that there was still one, two or even three years to go before it would end. For the seniors though, it was the final countdown. Three exams until grad...two...one, until the last group of senior-classmen walked out of the exam hall, leaving their answers written on old-fashioned paper to prevent any kind of electronic tampering.

And with that, it was over.

M'kr'gr, Veksai, Fast, and several dozen other seniors who had been writing various exams in Exam Hall 4 stood together outside the hallway, just sort of staring at each other. It was over. It was really, truly over. No matter what happened now, barring having failed an exam, they would be graduating, receiving their commissions and departing for ships and starbases all over the Federation in a mere three weeks. It didn't matter what shape their rooms were in, mandatory intramural sports were finished, and classes were done.

All that was left what that one, last event. What they'd been working up to for four, long years. The one event that would make everything they'd worked and suffered through worthwhile.

All that was left was the Commissioning Ceremony.

"NO!" Chief Buznar howled at the top of his lungs, his voice further amplified by the sound amplification system around the Parade Ring, "It's a LEFT turn for all of the GRADUATING cadets! Those of you that AREN'T marching off the ring DON'T MOVE! It's EASY!"

He sighed. Standing on the dias that would soon hold the Commandant of the Academy, Fleet Admiral Ra'al, and possibly a Federation Council delegate or two, he couldn't help but feel just a hint of frustration. He was only wrapping up his second year as Academy Chief, a position that corresponded to the Sergeant-Major in the human armies of old (and the Chief Executioner in the old Andorian militaries). Still, it felt like he'd been there for two decades, trying to instil some sense of duty and honour in the young cadets...and not always succeeding. Not to be racist about it, but some species definitely picked up on it a lot better...one just needed to know how to deal with them. Andorians, for all their violent ways, were actually easy to deal with. Honour was a routine part of their culture, and if anybody got out of hand he simply had to begin calling out the ritual words of disgrace. Worst case scenario, he could hire an assassin from the Andorian Assassins Guild. Not to kill any students of course, that wasn't in his job description. But waking up one evening with a trained Andorian assassin sitting at one's desk with a wickedly sharp knife put even the most rebellious Andorian cadets back in line.

If only he was allowed to use that approach with some of the other species.

Humans weren't the worst, at least. But they weren't the most intelligent group. Or the strongest. And definitely not the most disciplined. At least, the young ones sure weren't. But the Academy wasn't about what the cadets were...it was about what they would become. And Buznar knew perfectly well that any newly commissioned Ensign that showed up on a Starfleet ship with the wrong attitude would be sorted out very quickly by both his/her/its fellow officers and by the senior enlisted members under their command.

So despite what most of the thousands of cadets standing at attention around the Parade Ring thought, he didn't hate them. And he wasn't there to punish them, or to make their lives miserable, or to see how many he could make pass out from standing too long in the warm sun. He was there to try to teach them some of the self-control they were going to need before they learned it the hard way. And, for the next few weeks, he was there to give these ungrateful little bastards a graduation ceremony they'd remember for the rest of their lives.

That wasn't entirely fair, he chided himself. Most of the graduating cadets understood. Well, many of them, anyway. The ones that didn't could go to hell. But to the other three-quarters of the Academy, graduation was still years away.

But it was the cadets graduating in under three weeks that he was worried about now.

"OK people," he snapped into the microphone, "I want all the Sectors back at their march-on positions. Graduates, we're taking this from the top, so clear back out. Remember, Training Officers should be holding your bat'leths, Andorian Assassin swords, katana, claymores or whatever the hell your culture dictates you carry, in a sheathed-carry grip. LET'S GO PEOPLE!"

The next two weeks were a blur of parade practices and paperwork. Veksai had never realized just how much bureaucracy was involved in getting a Starfleet commission. In the months leading up to graduation they'd all been subjected to thorough medical examinations...though thankfully not as thorough as the invasive exams they'd received on enrolling. Now they were running all over campus, pressing their thumbs to thumb readers to indicate that yes, their text padds and other gear had been returned, their Class-D, Class-E and other uniforms not needed for graduation had been returned, their names were spelled properly on the commissioning scrolls and they'd returned all borrowed equipment to the gym. He would have expected that the problems there would be with cadets like Kodene, who's name looked more like paint splatters when written in the native Velvattian script. But no. Kodene and M'kr'gr's names were both unintelligible but apparently correct, while his name had been spelt 'Veksky' in neat, English letters.

Bureaucracy aside, he hadn't really given much thought to the social aspects either. The graduation guest list had been posted, and aside from the crazy number of family members that were coming to see their offspring graduate, the number of VIPs was a bit surprising. Fleet Admiral Ra'al, Admiral Janeway, the head of Humanoid Resources, the 4th Fleet Admiral, the 2nd Fleet Admiral, the head of Starfleet Intelligence and a spattering of other senior officers were all on the confirmed list...as were his own parents. That had been a wonderful surprise; he'd half expected them to miss the event just because spring on Earth corresponded with the peak of the work season on Shallas IV. But no, apparently they'd both put their feet down and firmly declared that they were travelling to Earth and to hell with everything else.

Touching, really.

There was also the traditional Senior-Classmen Wine & Cheese. Well, in Standard it was Wine & Cheese. In Andorian the approximate translation was 'Blood & Gore', to the Bolians it was 'Beer & Sausage' and to the few Klingon cadets it was 'Gigantic Waste of Time'.

"Can you imagine how boring this would have been three hundred years ago?" Quarterman giggled, looking around the Uhura Ballroom at the thousand or so cadets as they mingled around the various food & drink stands.

"I know!" Kumari nodded, "I mean, we had a little ion storm problem back home when I was sixteen, so we had nothing but local food for nearly a month. I was so bored, I nearly died!"

"Princess," Bizkit fake-coughed into her sleeve.

"Totally," Kumari agreed,"

"Hey, look!" Wind spoke up, "Somebody's trying to Klingon table!"

"Are they Klingon?" Quarterman asked, not looking.

"Well...yeah..." Wind said quietly.

"Then that's boring, "

"Oh, Cuirass is trying the Andorian...whatever it is. Bile wine?"

"Yup," Kumari nodded. "And three...two...one...there he goes!"

The girls laughed as Cuirass' eyes bugged out, then the gangly blond cadet made a break for the bathroom and the toilets within.

A few stands down, Veksai was sampling the Rigellian fungal-cheese.

"This is pretty gross," he said, as calmly as possible.

"Yeah, but the beer is great," Igor said happily, refilling his glass from the ornate bottle sitting at the stand. Next to him, his girlfriend Janin gave sort of a resigned smile.

"That's not beer," Veksai informed him.

"What is it?" Igor asked.

Veksai picked up the descriptive card.

"Closest translation is 'fermented yak sweat'," he read.

Igor considered this.

"Could be worse," he said, taking another sip, "Could be a LOT worse,"

It was time.

Veksai stood next to the lower-, junior- and middle-classmen from Antares Sector that had been chosen to take part in the graduation ceremonies. The night before there had been a smaller, closing-of-the-year ceremony held on campus, with a number of groups such as the Andorian Chess Club and the Sharpshooting team demonstrating their talents. The evening had closed with a performance by Starfleet's elite Orbital Skydive team, dedicated to the graduating class.

Now, with all the preparations finished, it was time to graduate.

Ahead of him, Veltran Sector had just begun marching towards to the parade square, the sound of a Terran bass drum keeping the pace.

"Antares Sector, quick march," he commanded.

They'd rehearsed this dozens of times over the past three weeks...it felt more like hundreds, really. But what they hadn't rehearsed was the atmosphere at the Academy on graduation day.

They marched around a corner, off the side path where they'd formed up and onto the street leading to the Parade Ring. Banners were hanging from posts spaced around the outer edge of the ring, off the Commandant's Dias, even off Khitohmner Building itself. Photo-bots were hovering around, recording the event. And the stands setup around the ring were filled with thousands of spectators. Parents and family, mostly. But visitors, tourists, even more than a few dignitaries had come out for the vent. As Veksai marched Antares into their position on the Parade Ring, he couldn't help but scan the crowd for the faces of his own parents...who were seated under the Antares Sector banner, right next to Kumari's parents.

Speaking of, Kumari and the other Sector Leaders were falling into the parade, replacing the Training Officers, who marched to their positions next to the Sectors. Veksai admitted to having mixed feelings about his pip position when it came to graduation. As Training Officer, he had the privilege of marching his Sector onto the ring, and he was wearing a rather impressive Andorian War Helmet (slightly modified to better suit the Academy formal uniform), as opposed to the silly-looking maroon caps the rest of the graduates were wearing. But as the graduating cadets marched into place between the Commandant's Dias and the Sectors, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret that he wasn't marching on with them.

As the Commandant, the Fleet Admiral and the Council Minister of Defence began inspecting the graduates (on a speedy hover-cart, thank God), M'kr'gr couldn't help but marvel at the variety of races and species on the parade, even just in the small part of it visible to him. And even within each of the species were dozens of distinct cultures, belief systems and attitudes. That they could all conspire to put together a training center that they each found at least tolerable was a testament to diplomacy. He remembered the friction he himself encountered during his first year, trying to deal with people who had never seen a Parian before. Even in his last year, he still had a way of terrifying people that didn't know him...but thankfully they had been a constantly shrinking minority.

At the conclusion of the inspection, the Commandant returned to the dais and the march-past began. As Kumari took her position at the head of Antares Sector, with Veksai behind and to her left and the Sector following them, she felt a surge of pride. She'd been accustomed to holding a position of authority...it was inevitable when you were heir to the throne and surrounded by servants. But that had meant nothing to anybody here. She'd earned the position of Sector Leader entirely on her own abilities; her father's position as King of a (she now knew) minor colony meant nothing. As she led her Sector past the Commandant and the dignitaries, she had to wonder how many years it would be before her role as a Princess would mean anything again.

There were speeches of course, following the march past. There always were. The Commandant said they were great. The Fleet Admiral implied they were adequate. At this point, the graduates really didn't care. They were now mere minutes away from becoming new Ensigns. Four long years of work, five minutes to go, nobody really wanted to wait any longer.

The speaches finished, and it was time to get down to business.

"Pipmen will join the graduating class, quick march!"

With that, Veksai, Kumari and all the other Training Officers and Sector Leaders turned neatly and left their Sectors. They marched away, leaving behind not only the cadets that weren't graduating, but also, finally, the pip positions they'd held for the last semester. Scooter was the Training Officer now, and Labal would be taking over as Sector Leader. With no small amount of relief, Veksai and Kumari took up their positions with the graduating cadets. Antares Sector and Brute Squad were, for them, now a thing of the past.

"Class of 6200 will advance for commissioning, quick march!"

As the graduates stepped forward, Veksai flashed back to a very similar moment, nearly four years ago. After the Survival Challenge, when they'd been presented with the Academy comm-bdages. Now, they'd be taking those badges off, removing their Academy pips and donning the apparel of commissioned officers.

Finally, the senior officers present stepped onto the parade square to present the commissions.

"One last note," Admiral Ra'al said dryly into the microphone as she left the dais, "Starfleet recognises the importance of family to our officers. We realize that while our officers have volunteered to serve far from their homes, you have been conscripted into having your family members separated from you. Please, any who wish to cross the Parade Ring to be with your young ones as they receive their commissions, feel free to do so."

There was a moment of uncertain quiet, then small groups of parents stepped tentatively onto the Parade Ring. Veksai would have chuckled, if he wasn't so worked up over getting commissioned. But yes, the ranks of silent cadets and the careful precision of the parade generally made one apprehensive about stepping onto the ring.

But, seeing that those first few parents and siblings were genuinely welcome to join their children, the trickled turned into a steam, then into a flood. Graduates found themselves surrounded by smiling family members, holo-cams, recording devices and more than a few happy hugs.3

The next thing he knew, an Admiral was handing him his commissioning scroll while another officer unsnapped his pips, replacing them with gold Ensign pips. His Academy comm-badge was likewise replaced with the Starfleet version. The Admiral shook his hand, posed for a photo (snapped by his grinning mother), then moved on to commission Guthar.

Within minutes every graduate had been commissioned. After a few more moments spent clearing relatives off the parade ring, it was time to wrap things up.

"Officers, about turn,"

The graduates turned away from the dignitaries and spectators, back towards the ranks of cadets.

With a few careful commands, the cadets lifted their ceremonial phaser rifles into a salute, then fired a shot into the air, the beams shining brilliantly even in the bright sunlight. Again, the salute was given, only this time three dots became visible to the graduates, high in the sky behind the Academy buildings surrounding the Parade Ring. The dots were growing quickly, grey tinged with red.

As the third salute was fired, the dots resolved themselves into three starships, their shields still glowing from the heat of re-entry. With a deafening roar, the first Sovereign-class ship flew overhead, it's sleek, blade-like saucer cutting through the air above the Academy. Right behind it were two Intrepid-class ships, their smaller, rounder hulls flashing in the sun as they curved away to either side. Seconds later, the wake of the ships crashed across the ground, a brief burst of pressure that rattled windows and blew more than a few caps to the ground.

"Officers, dis-miss!"

As the graduates turned and marched off the Parade Ring, past the Federation Emblem with its dozens of fist-sized, glowing stars and down the main avenue to the Academy gates, the realization came crashing down...their time at the Academy was over.

But the adventure was just beginning...

End.

And with that, Star Traks: Crash Course draws to a close. It's been an interesting experiment, trying to take four years at the Royal Military College of Canada and to convert that experience into something that would fit in the Traks universe. Whether or not that experiment was a success...well, I guess that's up to you. It's very unlikely that there will be another Crash Course story...even though it would be possible to go back and flush out more events and details for the four-year span it covered, I think it's best if the series remains as it is: written as events unfolded. That said, I fully expect that some of the new graduates will eventually find their way into one of the many Star Traks series still on the go.

Thank you for reading, and have a happy holiday.

Brendan Shust, Friday, December 30th, 2011

1 Yeah, I know Quebec isn`t a planet, star system or anything else that the other Sectors are based on. But it`s Quebec, and they ALWAYS want to be their own whatever. (A little Canadian humour there...)

2 Yeah, I know he`s not from Trek. But I`m running out of names for buildings, and in his case bio-neural research seemed appropriate.

3 Yup. I'm actually rather proud to say this is completely based off a real scene. Took us all completely by surprise when the Chief of Defence Staff invited the families to come onto the parade for commissioning. Took forever to get things under control for the parade could continue after...but it was great.


End file.
